In the Dark
by FlyinBison
Summary: Roy never could put his finger on why Maes fascinates him. Roy's feelings grow along with his alchemic skills. Set mostly during Roy's academy days. MaesXRoy hints and tension. Multiple storylines; one major plot.
1. Chapter 1: Barely Breathing

**Disclaimer: **The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.

**Author's notes:** Well I'm off on another one shot again. But this time, looking at my notes, it's going to be a few chapters long which I think I'll continue to write and release as long as you guys are reading and enjoying it :D (otherwise…if you guys didn't like it what would be the point? I do it all for you!)

**In the Dark**

**Part 1: Barely Breathing**

If it was pleasure Roy wanted, he'd have to chase her in the dark for it. No lights; no touching; no kisses; and she always had to be on top. These were the rules and if he ever wanted to get to heaven he had to comply.

Roy fell back onto the bed, his breath short and his heart pounding. As always, her hands were swift. Hungrily, they ran down his chest, quickly finding the line of restrictive buttons across his crisp, pressed uniform.

He heard the buttons clatter to the floor as, with one smooth motion, she viciously tore past his outer jacket. As she worked her way through his white dress shirt Roy managed to press his wet lips against what he imagined was her cheek. No sooner had he applied slight pressure did she strike him across the face with a closed fist. Instantly, he could feel his jaw grow hot and begin to swell as the blood rushed to the surface of his pale skin.

With a strong hand she grabbed him by the throat and firmly forced him back, flat against the mattress. He coughed. Though she uttered not a word, he knew his place and he dared not advance on her again. For the remainder of their time together he remained still, tightly gripping the sheets. The cold air of the room made his naked skin tighten and prickle.

Suddenly, he let out a loud gasp when, without further foreplay, she drove herself down onto him. His muscular back arched with each violent thrust she gave. She was strong…soft….and so very warm.

As he lost himself in her, his head lolled back over the pillow, while his eye lids fluttered rapidly, tearing. Eventually, he stared off, glassy eyed, into the darkness above him, letting out an orgasmic gasp every now and again.

"What are you doing here? In _this_ place?" The thoughts briefly pushed through the lusty haze in his mind, "Do you think you're somehow getting closer to Maes this way?" However, these questions soon left him with the next rough push.

Then, before Roy knew it, she let go of him as quickly as she had grabbed him at the start. He heard the soft ripples of her skirt as she quickly pulled it back down over her thighs and smoothed it out.

His nostrils flaring and his brain still stuck in a fog, Roy lay naked and still, slowly catching his breath, barely aware of her movements.

Mellow, incandescent light spilled in from the hallway when she opened the door. Roy blinked sedately, his eyes unable to focus in the light. Suddenly, the yellow light was wiped away as the door quickly shut behind her, casting him into darkness once more.

"Maes…" Roy whispered as if a simple whisper could bring him back from the dead.

---------------------------

_(Several years ago…at the military academy…)_

Deep in thought, the young fire alchemist bit his lip. Quickly his eyes scanned over the stark, white forms once more. He wasn't checking for completeness so much as he was hesitant to turn them in. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the thin black loops of his scribbled signature at the end of the last page. He stood there for a prolonged moment, trying to figure out why even the shine of the dark ink reminded him of the smooth, glossy hair of—

"Maes Hughes," the name escaped Roy's lips, hardly audible, "Why, Maes?"

Finally, when the bitter taste of iron began to enter his mouth, he hurriedly, almost with an air of frustration, folded the forms twice and slipped them neatly into an envelope addressed to the General. He dropped it into the mailbox and quickly left the office without looking back even once.

---------------------------

_(A few months later…in Ishbal…)_

A sand covered jeep bounced roughly through the desert. Not far behind a small string of trucks and other military jeeps followed, bobbing on the red horizon.

Day dreaming. He had been day dreaming again, his hand subconsciously and rhythmically turning a dull push dagger over and over again. Its edges had long since been worn smooth from wear, but Mustang's fingertips could still make out the thin "MH" that had been etched near the hilt of the blade.

By the time he had realized that the convoy had deviated greatly from the originally planned path, it was too late.

"Colonel," Roy blinked a couple times and looked around, "Where are we going? This is not the planned route, Sir." Swiftly, he slipped the push dagger back up his sleeve.

"I'm very aware of that, Major Mustang," the man sitting next to him in the jeep responded, his back to Roy as he scanned the sand dunes with a pair of binoculars, "We're just taking a slight detour."

"But, Sir," craning his neck, the young alchemist squinted at the distant horizon behind them, "We're very far outside our limits. This is ally territory. We shouldn't be here." He shifted uneasily in his seat. Something was very wrong. This wasn't right.

"Easy now, Major," the colonel chuckled, "Your concern has been noted. However, I know exactly where we are. Besides, we're almost there and this shouldn't take too long. We'll be back at base camp before you know it."

Just as the convoy popped over the next sand dune, it appeared seemingly out of no where. Even from a distance, the rows and rows of dark, steel tower pumps and piping were unmistakable. As they drew closer, it became apparent that small, ordinary houses and sandstone buildings were also scattered about the area.

"Ah there you are, beautiful," the colonel whispered to himself.

Roy's eyes widened, "The oil field...you're after the--"

Automatic gunfire washed out the rest of Mustang's sentence. It wasn't long after when the screams of villagers over rid the gunfire itself.

"Sir," Mustang shouted trying to keep his head down low, "This is _not_ what we were sent here to do! We were ordered to help put down a rebellion on the _other_ side of the border!"

The Colonel ignored him, laughing as the convoy broke travel formation and began to raid the houses and chase down any one who was running.

"I beg of you, Sir, please stop! This is a simple oil mining town in ally territory! They pose no threat! Sir, please stop!"

Filled with an ugly mix of horror and rage, Mustang shot out of his seat and, grabbing the nearest soldier's gun, pulled it down violently causing the soldier's spray of bullets to strike a neighboring truck. The truck jackknifed as the engine caught fire. Unable to maintain its center of gravity it flipped on its side and skidded to rest not far behind the jeep they were in.

Before Mustang could draw his gun and turn around, something dense and blunt him in the back of the head making everything go black.

---------------------------

"_Was this part of your plan, Maes?"_

"_Who said I had a plan?"_

When Mustang came to, the sun was high and blinding. The colonel was standing above him, smiling smugly, his shadow casting long across the major's body. Behind him several pumps creaked eerily in a rhythmic fashion.

The young alchemist groaned and tried to move but he found that his guns and alchemy gloves had been taken and that his hands were tied behind his back as well.

"Major Mustang…the Flame Alchemist," the colonel chuckled darkly and began to circle his prone body, "I'm going to give you one last chance, Major. You can either be with us," he lit a cigarette, "or against us."

Mustang blinked several more times and squinted up at the colonel. Secretly, with a shift of his wrist he slipped out the small silver dagger that had stayed hidden in his sleeve.

"I assure, Major, that it is definitely worth your while if you're with us," the colonel continued to pace, "The future is oil, Major, not steam. We can run this place better than the red-eyes and become heroes, Mustang, saviors of this land. However, if you're against us, you can go down the well with the enemy," he nodded towards the trembling villagers huddled against a nearby wall and surrounded by guards. One bye one, the guards pushed the villagers into the dried up well to the right of the wall.

"So, what's your decision, Mustang?"

For a long moment Roy didn't respond. The push knife was dull and the rope was thick.

Finally, unable to control himself, his shoulders began to tremble.

"Mustang?" Perplexed, the colonel took a step closer.

Suddenly Roy burst out laughing, "I'm sorry, Colonel," Roy gasped taking in a deep breath, trying to stifle his laughter, "You must forgive me for my disrespect, Sir, but do you actually know where we are?"

The colonel scowled and stepped back. "By all means, Major," he puffed his cigarette, "do enlighten us."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Roy cleared his throat, "This is the village of Cronus or more well known as the 'Hollow Land.'" Tickled, Roy chuckled again and shook his head, "If you're looking for oil, Sir, this is not the place. Most of it was sucked dry by industrial contractors years ago. What's left, what these innocent people are living on, are the meager residues of fuel left behind after the contractors had pulled out." As he continued, the colonel's eyes grew wider and wider, filling with a quiet rage, "Why do you think that the field was so easy to take? If there was real money here, Sir, there would have been guards and a stronger resistance. Honestly, Sir—"

The colonel threw his tight fist across the young alchemist's jaw before he could go on further. Only partway through the ropes, Roy concealed the blade back up his sleeve. The colonel then drove his heel into his abdomen over and over, until a sharp, metallic taste entered Roy's mouth.

"I'll take that as a rejection to my offer," the colonel turned his back on the heaving and gasping major. He gestured to two soldiers to drag Roy along behind him, "If that truly is your answer then I'm afraid we have nothing better to do with you than to make an example out of you." The colonel stopped at a large rusted barrel near one of the pumps, "However, if what you say is true, what do you make of this, Mustang?"

With that, the colonel popped open the barrel and kicked it over so that its thick, black contents drained freely into a nearby, dried up water trough. The glistening surface of the oil hardly settled before they had pushed his head under its dark surface. Struggling to bring his head back up again, he kicked and writhed furiously against his half cut bindings. They creaked slightly with the tension but still held fast.

Roy's eyes and throat burned when they finally let him up for air. With his nose but a few millimeters above the dark shining liquid he gagged and sputtered. Eventually, he vomited. What came out was a dark fluid, black.

"Well well," the colonel scoffed letting out thick wisps of cigarette smoke as he spoke, "I do believe that is oil, State Alchemist Mustang. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eyes red and wheezing, Roy turned his head to the side and swore as the oil streamed down his face body. "Fuck you," he spat.

"State alchemists," the colonel chuckled, "you know I've always hated you all. You all think you're so important…that you're so much better than the rest of the military. You think you can save everyone with your stupid alchemy circles."

"_Damn it, Maes!"_ Roy's past frustration at the academy echoed in his mind, _"I can't do this! These alchemy circles aren't making any sense to me! I think I'll just settle to become a paper pusher like you."_

"_Oh come on, Roy_," Maes had answered. All cadets had been required to take the entry level alchemy in order to understand its basic nature. Unlike Roy, Maes seemed to be a natural at the basic circles though this understanding fell off considerably for Hughes in the upper level classes,_ "You've done harder things than this before when you were with old man Hawkeye, yeah? I think you're just over complicating things. This is just a simple reorganization circle. It's just a shifting around of material. There's not even any chemical reformation involved. I mean I did it and I definitely know I'm not state alchemist material. So you should be able to do it too. I believe in you."_

Roy's eyes widened. They had caught site of a network of special, silver piping behind the colonel.

"Wait! Wait!" He managed to wheeze out. Somehow, in his slight struggle, he managed to hook his leg around one of the soldiers holding him. Losing his balance, the solider lost his grip on Roy, causing him to drop Mustang to the ground beside the rusty trough. "You know they'll come looking for me, Colonel!" He shouted rolling over onto his back, concealing the quick actions of his hands again, "Especially because I am a State Alchemist."

"Hehehehe," the colonel laughed darkly, "That maybe, Mustang, but," he grabbed Roy by the collar, "but when we're done with you, they won't even recognize you. I'll just be report MIA."

With that he slammed Roy's head back under the black oil. The young alchemist struggled violently against his bindings still unable to break them.

Just when his air bubbles in the oil began to subside, Roy felt the ropes finally snap and give. Whipping out the push dagger, he swung his arm up and out, dragging across something soft and delicate. Though his head was submerged in thick liquid, he could hear an immediate scream of agony. Suddenly, the colonel released him.

Wiping the oil from his face with his sleeve, Mustang caught site of the Colonel cupping his left eye with his hand. Streams of crimson flowed out from between his fingers as he flailed around.

Push knife in between his fingers, Roy hit the soldier closest to him before the soldier could ready his automatic gun. The soldier let out a small shout, as the short blade sunk into him. With a quick, combative flourish, he threw the soldier several feet back, colliding him with his fellows.

Thinking fast, Mustang kicked over the trough full of oil and dove behind it before they started firing their guns at him. When the ricochet of the bullets subsided for a moment, Roy, as quick as he could, made a break for the network of pipes and pumps he had spied earlier.

As soon as he popped up, the soldiers began to fire at him again. However, only a few wild rounds had been discharged before the Colonel shouted, "Stop! Stop firing you idiots! You hit the pipelines you compromise us all!"

Still dripping in oil, and gasping for air, Roy collapsed behind one of the large, silver pipes. After a brief moment he propped himself up and quickly dragged the dull dagger point across the pipe in a regular, familiar pattern. He then bit his lip and tried not to scream as he pressed the blade against his own hand.

Before the colonel could call out to Roy, the shining silver pipes suddenly contorted into an odd shape. As the material bent around, large holes burst through the sides of the pipe releasing its clear, odorless contents. The air quivered in the sun as the gas hissed out into the open air.

"A reorganization transmutation," the colonel recognized the basic alchemy, "Damn alchemist. Natural gas often accompanies oil deposits below ground. Very clever of you to disrupt it's pipeline to fill this area with natural gas. Now we can't fire our guns without blowing us all to kingdom come. But, alchemist, you forgot one thing."

"And what's that?" All of the sudden, Roy jumped out and blindsided the Colonel, knocking the older officer to the ground.

Looking up at the young alchemist, the colonel couldn't help but laugh. Mustang, was standing above him, his hand out stretched with his fingers together as if to suggest he may snap them at any moment. On the back of his outstretched hand, were several deep cuts, sliced in such a way to mimic the flame alchemy circles usually found on the back of his gloves.

"You forgot that you can't do anything if you can't make a spark. Without you're alchemy gloves you're useless. We may not be able to fire our guns, but, look at you. You're covered in oil. You're still gasping for air. You're weak! And we can still take you down!"

With that, the colonel lunged at Roy, upper cutting him. After a few quick jabs to his ribs and across his face, Mustang was on the ground again. Nevertheless, the young alchemist kept his hand in the snapping position.

He held out his hand towards the colonel again and smiled his swollen lips, "But I don't have to make a spark, Colonel," he opened his hand to expose the smoldering cigarette that he had plucked from the Colonel's lips when he had blindsided him earlier, "once I snap my fingers I disperse the hot embers into the air and then all I have to do is alter the air densities and currents around it to make it burn!"

"No," the colonel gasped, "you wouldn't! You'll kill us all. Even yourself!"

Roy smiled, his fingers twitched.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" The colonel screamed as Mustang snapped his fingers.

**Additional notes: **I'll have to admit that since I haven't written action in a while it was harder to write this time. Anyways, stay tuned for the next chapter! (well…if you guys like it…) So let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2: Broken

**Disclaimer: **The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.

**Author's notes:** I know I know…it's been longer than the few weeks I promised some readers that I'd get this 2nd chapter out. Many things came up and I had to put this on the back burner for a little bit. I also rethought how I wanted to write this ficlet and for a while I had hit a small writer's block in trying to make this new execution in story work out. I think I've figured it out, now, and I hope you guys enjoy it :) (and that you guys remembered what happened last time. Please feel free to review ch1 if you need to!)

* * *

**Part 2: Broken**

"Maes…If only you could see me now…"

Roy felt his lungs shred themselves apart as his wet scream extended into infinity.

"Jesus…" "Someone get some rope! We're going to have to tie him down!" "Wake the doctor! This one's still alive!"

_Riiinngg! _ The violent ring of the phone on the night stand jarred the colonel out of his sedate stupor.

"Hello?" He whispered hoarsely into the phone after the 2nd ring.

"Sir," Riza's gentle but firm voice came from the other end, "it's nearly 10 o'clock, now. Shall I reschedule your meetings today? If you are fatigued or ill, Sir, perhaps it would be wise to take a sick day to see the doctor."

"That will be unnecessary, Lieutenant," Mustang said, barely moving from his position on the stiff mattress, "I will be in shortly. Please send my apologies for running late along to my appointments this morning."

* * *

_(Several years ago…)_

_This is wrong. These thoughts are all wrong._

One moment Roy's mind was continuously looping the angry words of Professor Hawkeye as the old man threw him out after learning his wishes to enlist as a state alchemist; and in the next he couldn't help but blush at the improper thoughts that had entered his mind and seemed to instantly wash his mind clean of all pain and torture.

He wasn't sure when the tall man had entered the dimly lit sleeping car—though he suspected that the man had done so while he, himself, had briefly nodded off—but now that he was here, nothing mattered anymore.

As soon as Roy had laid his eyes on him, he couldn't look away. Even when he averted his gaze to stare out into the infinite night and shadows rushing by the train, his eyes continued to linger on Maes' ghostly reflection, neatly framed in the train window.

Only when the train had been enveloped in the lantern studded darkness of a long tunnel could Roy look directly at him. With each flickering light that swept over Maes' sleeping form, Roy's heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, he jumped. There was a large bump in the tracks that jarred each of the train cars as it went. Roy looked back at Maes, still sleeping, just in time to see his glasses slide off his nose and break once it hit the hard wood floor.

Without a second thought, Roy produced a piece of soft, white chalk from his pocket. Kneeling on the floor of the sleeping car, he drew a smooth, intricate circle around the broken glasses, careful to include all the pieces of the shattered lenses. Delicately placing his fingertips at the edges of the alchemy circle he closed his eyes and whispered something to himself.

No sooner did he do this, was there was a small bluish flash that highlighted the intricate design on the floor and enveloped the broken glasses. The light, though intense, faded quickly to reveal perfectly mended steel framed glasses.

Roy smiled silently to himself. It was a shame that his car mate wouldn't know of his kind service to him.

Gently, Roy picked up the man's glasses. They were heavier than they looked. Slowly, he approached his sleeping companion and began to slide the glasses back onto his face. His fingers began to tremble ever so slightly as they drew closer to Maes' smooth face. Maes' breath was soft and warm against his palm.

"Faggot," the hateful voice came from the door to sleeping car. Before Roy knew it, he was clutching the newly mended glasses tightly in his hand as a platinum blonde cadet grabbed him by the collar and pinned him against the cold train window, "Alchemist freak!" He threw a punch across the dark eyed alchemist's face, "what do you think you're doing?"

"His glasses—" was all Roy could get out past his already swelling lip before he was slammed against the wall again.

"I saw what you were doing…how you were looking at him…" The other young man sneered, "Fag!"

Roy swallowed hard and cast his eyes to the ground. He had seen this man before. In fact he had lived not too far from the Hawkeyes. The professor had caught him several times, as a boy, throwing stones at their house. Up until now, Roy had made a point to avoid him as the blonde and his gang was known to often gain pleasure from tormenting known alchemists.

"Hey!" Stirred from his slumber, the tall man jumped up. He placed his hand the angry blonde's shoulder, "Let him go, Peter. He didn't do anything."

"Hughes," Peter continued to stare down the young alchemist in his clutches, "you're lucky I got here in time. Fucker would have probably raped you if I hadn't."

"I highly doubt that, Peter," Hughes pushed him away from Roy a little, "Besides, he was just trying to help me." He took the glasses from Roy's clutch, "You know I'm practically blind without these stupid things."

Slowly regaining his nerve, Roy looked up. When his eyes met Hughes' his mouth went dry as his heart jumped into his throat as a lump. His eyes were…_golden!_ They sparkled and were so close to his and very deep.

"Come on," Hughes slipped the glasses on, "let him go, Peter. You don't want to get thrown off the train again, do you? I mean I don't think I can talk the conductor into letting you back on a _second_ time in a row."

"Fine…" the angry blonde dropped Roy after a stiff silence, "We'll get him and all the other alchemy freaks later when we pull into the academy." The alchemist crumpled to the ground with his back against the wall.

"That's right, Peter," Maes patted the blonde on the shoulder as they turned to exit the car, "Later."

Just as the door began to slide shut behind them Hughes turned, "Hey," he said catching the door, "Thanks." He smiled back at Roy and tapped his glasses in a half salute-half wave motion.

Roy wasn't quite sure if he returned the smile before Hughes released the door. The door closed swiftly with a soft click, casting him into the dark again as he stared distantly at the smudged chalk circle outlined in moonlight on the floor in front of him.

_His eyes are golden…_

_God…I'm so fucked up…_

* * *

_(2 years later in Ishval…)_

"Mustang…Major Mustang…can you hear me?"

Roy let out a painful groan. Even though he knew all the flames had been put out, his skin felt like it was still burning. It hurt to breathe and to even lie still. Every sigh, every breeze, every heartbeat was agony.

"My name is Dr. Marco," the gentle voice continued, "and you are in the Cathedral of the Blessed, which, since wartime, has been converted by the Fuhrer and our allies into a small military hospital."

"Doctor, why is it so dark," Roy managed to sputter out past his bandages, "Why can't I see?"

The doctor exhaled sadly, "The fire…it burned out your eyes and over 90% of your body. It's a miracle that you're even alive and talking only 1 month after the accident."

"Accident…so that's what they're calling it…" Roy thought to himself.

"Son," Dr. Marco continued, "I'm afraid I'm only passing through and will be here for only 3 days. That doesn't give us much time to heal you."

"Heal me…you have that power?"

"With this philosopher's ring, the same kind of ring the Fuhrer bestowed upon you, I do have the power to restore your body's appearance, even your eyes, back to or at least close to what they were. From there, after I leave, the nuns and nurses will assist you in rehabilitating your body. Indeed, it's going to be a long and hard road, Son, but in the end I think you won't regret taking it. You are, after all, a hero."

"A hero?"

"You saved the entire Ishbalian village of Cronus. Not to mention the great loyalty to the Fuhrer you've shown through all your selfless services."

Despite the excruciating pain, laughter began to tremble throughout the young flame alchemist's body, "I'm no hero, Doc. I'm a murderer. Before Cronus, I've burned hundreds of villages to the ground and perhaps have killed thousands. All because of that blasted ring." Under his bandages, Roy grimaced as he tried to turn against them, "Are you sure want to save me, Doc? I've killed doctors too, you know. Like you, they were just trying to help everyone…and I burned them until there was nothing left but ashes and dust…they had pictures of their little girl back home everywhere…"

After a long pause, Dr. Marco spoke again, "This is war, Son, and if I've learned anything as a doctor here it's that no one ever escapes it clean. We all have blood on our hands and all that one can truly hope for is that one's soul, like a phoenix, will emerge from it anew and worthy of salvation. It doesn't make what we've done right, but now you can make sure that what you do next will be the right thing."

Silence then, "Son," the physician continued, "Please. This is your second chance. If not for yourself, then do it for those you love back home. Do it for May."

"May?"

"Yes…" the Doctor shifted in his chair, "You were screaming her name over and over again the night they brought you in from the oil fields."

Roy let out a small breathless gasp as fragments of that night surfaced in his brain, "Maes…"

"Ah, so there is an 'S' at the end of her name. They had just assumed that you had been slurring the name due to your injuries," Marco shrugged, "She wouldn't happen to have any pictures of you that she could send along, would she? I would like to have them so I will know heal you properly and so that when I'm finished you're…recognizable. I have your military photo on hand, but I will also need different angles to estimate."

Though his eyes had been burned away, Roy could still feel tears or something like them, well up and seep out from behind the bandages across his face.

"No," Roy said, a stone settling in his throat, "Maes doesn't have any pictures of me." Before Roy had left, he had made sure of that.

"That's a pity. Is there anyone else, Son?"

"Hawkeye," Roy forced the name out of his lungs that had seemed to be growing weaker by the second, "Lt. Riza Hawkeye. We grew up together. She'll have pictures of me."

* * *

_(Several years later…Present day…)_

The stiff ruffles of her underskirt grated against his pale skin. With each firm jerk into her, Roy's blindfold grew damp.

After he had managed a kiss at their last encounter, she had forced him into restraints this time. He arched his back and pulled against the coarse rope about his wrists and ankles, letting out a heavy gasp after each of her rough thrusts. Eventually he felt the splintering burn from his ligatures grow until it finally spread warmth streaming down and around his extremities. On the feather edge of pleasure and pain, Roy bit his lip, stifling his screams.

_If he wanted to get to heaven, he had to comply…_

* * *

**Additional notes**: And there is ch 2! If you noticed, I've stuck with the 1st FMA series premise in regards to what happened to the Rockebells. (Though I must admit I like how FMA: Brotherhood is making Roy more bad ass and hot! Episode 19 = *love love love!*)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter in all its tension and torture. Please let me know what you think by reviewing and commenting! (At least I hope haven't lost too many readers due to my uber long delay in getting this installment out…*sweat drop*)


	3. Chapter 3: Nothing

**Disclaimer:** The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.

**Author's notes:** Sorry for the delay, but I've finally gotten a small break that has allowed me to update. Since it's been awhile, here's a quickie overview of what's happened thus far in regards to the 3 major storylines

1) Present day Roy is mourning the death of Maes, expressing this through a very physical and abusive relationship with a woman

2) War time Roy is currently in Ishbal recovering from severe burns (90% of his body) with the help of Dr. Marcoh

3) Military academy Roy has met Maes Hughes for the first time along with his alchemy hating friend, Peter.

Please enjoy this next installment!

* * *

**Part 3: Nothing**

"Usually we like to room alchemy cadets together in the same quad, but I'm afraid there's been a mistake," the resident's hall director spoke over his shoulder to Roy, not far behind.

"A mistake?" The young alchemist stumbled as he pulled his heavy trunk along the creaking corridor. He adjusted the heavy sack slung over his shoulder, "What kind of mistake, Sir?"

"Well, it appears that the office has placed you in with the normal cadets," the hall director spoke to the air in front of him.

_Normal…mistake…_

"Alright," the hall director stopped abruptly in front of an open door at the end of the narrow corridor, "Here we are."

Roy's eyes widened and his nostrils flared as soon as he set foot in the room. That sweet scent…The room…Everything smelled just like the sleeping car on the train right after the tall man-"Hughes," the other cadet had called him—had entered.

"Normally we wouldn't have had enough beds here to accommodate such an error but as your luck would have it," the director continued, gesturing widely to the empty air in front of him, "We've recently had to expel a cadet from this room for unruly conduct and had to relocate him to a dorm with…stricter guidelines. Thus we had an opening for you."

"Well, it's late. I'll let you get settled then." With that the hall director was gone, creaking back down the thin corridor.

"Uh, thank you," Roy said nearly breathless, his respiratory rate having quickened considerably along with his heart. It was as if the slight scent was oxygen and his lungs were attempting to fill themselves with nothing but it.

Roy dropped his heavy baggage and fell back on the bare mattress that was to be his, his breath still fast.

When he closed his eyes it felt almost as if Hughes was standing inches away from him again. On the train, he had been so close...right in front of him…

_(2 years later…at the Cathedral of the Blessed…)_

"I'm sorry, there's been a mistake," said Dr. Marcoh, his fingers nervously tracing the metal railing at the end of the hospital bed.

"Mistake? What do you mean a mistake?" Roy's words echoed across the high arched ceiling, "What's wrong with me, Doctor?"

"I-I'm sorry," the doctor mumbled to the dusty floor, "I shouldn't have promised you so much…not without knowing…"

"What do you mean? Without knowing what? Why have I stopped healing?" The young alchemist's voice shook ever so slightly.

Dr. Marcoh cast his face to the floor and closed his eyes, "The nerves of the body, Son. They're just too complicated, too far beyond my alchemic skills."

Roy said nothing, his dark, moist eyes widening.

"I was hoping that with the stone I would be able to…"

"But, Doctor, I can feel. I feel the breeze; warmth; touch; pain, excruciating pain every time you treat me with the Philosopher's Stone. I feel everything against and under my skin. There's nothing wrong with my nerves."

"It's not those kinds of nerves, Son," Dr. Marcoh finally looked up from the foot of the bed, "The human body contains 2 sets of nerves. One set is for sensory and feeling purposes. The second set is for relaying messages from your brain to your muscles for movement. The problem with your body, Son, is this second set of nerves, the motor nerves that control your movements and fine motor skills. I've been able to restore your muscle reflexes and gross muscle contractions but…Surely you've noticed that though you are able to bend your arms and legs, move your hands and fingers in slight motions, you are unable to coordinate any of your movements in any concise pattern."

"So what does this mean for me, Doctor?" The young soldier's lips barely moved, as if they were afraid to utter the question. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, knowing already what the dreaded answer was going to be, but he wanted to hear it.

Marcoh grit his teeth and cast his eyes back down to linger on the chipped painted railing at the end of the bed, "I am afraid, Son, that it means that no matter how much further physical rehabilitation the nuns and nurses put you through, you will not…improve anymore."

At first, no words came out of Roy's open mouth. He too lowered his head, his sweat matted bangs falling into his eyes as they traced the infinite right angles of the tightly knit hospital blanket, "Why don't you just come out and say it, Marcoh? Stop beating around the bush."

"Son, I—"

"Just say it, Doctor!" Roy felt the warmth spill down his cheeks and trail down his jaw line, "Tell me I'm not going to walk again! Tell me I'll never be able to use my hands again! Tell me the truth!"

"Son, I didn't say that."

"No," the young soldier swallowed hard, "you didn't. But we both know that the nurses haven't been able to get me out of this bed without falling yet, let alone retrain my hands to stop shaking and to hold anything right. I can't even wrap my fingers around a God damn spoon to feed myself."

Marcoh closed his eyes again, confirming the young alchemist's implications. The corners of the doctor's mouth sank further as the look on his face became more severe. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've failed you," he repeated, "But you're life isn't over. There are ways we can accommodate your…condition."

"You think we can_ compensate?_" The bed bound soldier snickered darkly. "I don't think you understand, Marcoh," Roy whipped his head up to face the man standing at the end of the bed, "You brought me back; you tease my body by healing it and giving it the strength to weakly wave its limbs around erratically…and to shake with tremors; you _teased_ me with _hope_; but what have you left me with? Sure, I'd be able to get used using a wheelchair to get around, but…it's my hands, Doc."

"Even then, Son, there are ways to—"

"I. Am. An. Alchemist! Without the use of my hands, I am NOTHING!" Roy hunched over, lowering his head again, his shoulders shaking, "You of all people should understand that…God why did you bring me back?"

"Don't talk like that," the doctor straightened up, "You have to realize that you've come a long way since they wheeled you in here. I nearly committed 'the taboo' with you considering how much I had to replace and reconstruct from nothingness!" Gripping the metal railing, the doctor leaned over the end of the bed as he said this.

_Nothingness…_

"So what was all that pain you put me through for? What does that make me now, Doctor? What am I, now?"

_Nothingness…_

Not a word past between the two alchemists until Roy laughed cynically, again. "Perhaps," he spoke to his shaking hands, resting in his lap, "you could take my eyes back again and exchange it for the nerves in my hands."

The doctor's gaze softened. He took a step back from the bed, "You know that's not how equivalent exchange works, Son."

"Then just drown me in oil and burn me up, again…"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Marcoh took another step back from the bed, "Even if I did and even if I tried to bring you back a second time, we'd still end up here. As I said before…the damage to your nerves is far too complicated and severe for my alchemic skill, even with the stone." Roy heard the doctor take another step back.

"Doctor, where are you going?" Roy spoke softly.

"I am needed elsewhere," was all Marcoh mumbled.

"You'll be back later, won't you? Doctor Marcoh?" Roy looked up just in time to catch the tail of the doctor's white coat as he disappeared behind the yellow curtain, "Doctor Marcoh, wait! Please!"

"Wait!" Somehow, the young man wretched himself out of the bed. However, no sooner did he attempt to drag his foot forward when both his trembling legs crumpled under him. He slammed prone against the dusty, stone floor, pulling the thin hospital curtain off its rings and down with him.

"Please," Roy panted as he watched the doctor's figure grow smaller as he travelled further down the long hallway with the high arched ceiling.

_(A couple years ago…)_

"So, you really have lowered yourself to the level of a cowardly dog of the military. Clearly, I was right to not teach you alchemy of the flame, yet. You aren't ready and now you never will be."

"Sensei," Roy pleaded.

"Now get out, you bastard dog," Professor Hawkeye whispered, a rage quietly building inside him, "Get out of my house! You are nothing but a coward to me now."

"But, Sensei, please give me a chance," Roy lowered his head in a full bow, "You've only taught me the basic fundamentals of alchemy and you've seen how quickly and how much I've learned, already."

"And it was a waste teaching you!"

The young alchemist fell the ground, his jaw throbbing hotly. It was the first and only time the Professor had struck him, "You son of a bitch. You had so much potential. I was hoping to pass my research on to you, but now…what have you done?" Relaxing his angry fist, the old man turned his back on the trembling boy.

"I shouldn't have believed in you. I should have never taken a weakling like you in," the Professor spoke to the air in front of him, "I should have let you burn…"

_(A few months later…Back at the academy dorm room…)_

Tears. There were tears in Roy's eyes when he awoke. The young cadet blinked several times, attempting to push them away. It was dark outside now, the sun having set only a few hours ago. Roy blinked a few more times, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light of the dorm room.

"Well well well," a figure stepped into his field of view and stood over him. Immediately, the voice turned a knot in Roy's stomach. "If it isn't the faggot alchemist from the train."

Before Roy even had a chance to jump to his feet, Peter's hands were on him. Throwing a hardened fist across Roy's face, the angel haired delinquent pushed him back against the bare mattress.

"I can't believe Hughes' new roommate is a fucking alchemist. I can't believe they replaced me with _you!_" Peter smirked, his fist about Roy's collar shaking, "But I'll make sure that you won't be staying here tonight."

Despite his previous combat training, Roy's attempts to defend himself were easily reversed by Peter's sheer strength and hate. His vision began to blur as Peter continued to bury his fists into him and across his face. All the while Roy could swear he heard Peter laughing, "Ever since the train, I've been wanting to do this."

A sharp metallic taste flooded Roy's mouth. Instinctively, his body began to curl up tightly on the floor, as if such a position would protect him from Peter's heels. As the room began to grow dark, the last thing Roy could remember thinking over and over again was, "Hughes…" He looked to the door several times before losing complete consciousness, "Hughes…"

_(Present day…)_

_Maes…_

"Are you alright?" Gracia's voice carried over the table, "You haven't touched your food."

The colonel jumped and broke his gaze from the darkly finished front door. He looked down at his full plate.

"Oh," he said, smiling at Gracia and then Elysia who continued to play with her dinner, "I'm sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well lately."

When Hughes had been alive, he had always invited Mustang over for dinner on Thursdays. Roy didn't know why, but even after Maes' passing, he continued to come. Gracia was just too kind to turn him away and seemed to partly welcome the company. On occasion, when Roy had gotten up to leave, she would squeeze his hand and ask him to stay a little while longer. He never resisted her.

However, no matter how many times he visited; no matter how many times he would gaze longingly at the cherry wood stained front door, Roy knew that _Maes was never going to come through that door._

**Author's notes:** So…what'd you think? Does it make sense? Too emo? I know with all these flashbacks it can be a little confusing at times but I soon hope to focus on one storyline at a time which will hopefully bring things together and make things a lot more clear. All I hope and ask of you all is to stick with me despite the frequent flashbacks. It'll all come together eventually, trust me :)

Let me know what you think! Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome!


	4. Chapter 4: Finally

**Disclaimer**: The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.

**Author's notes:** I'm not quite sure how many of you left I have reading this, especially since I seem to have unintentionally and inadvertently taken a "hiatus" as a result of life deciding to get extremely busy right now. (This could probably explain why there is hardly any feedback with my chapter releases. But don't think this makes it ok not to leave me a comment or review if you are still reading -_^.) Anyways, the show must go on. Plus this is the chapter where I'm going to start focusing on one storyline with only occasional scenes from the others.

To refresh your memory, feel free to refer back to the first few chapters. But if you have a pretty good memory and would rather read the brief summary, please enjoy this recap…

**(warning these are spoilers if you haven't read the previous chapters): **

1) Present day Roy is still coping with the loss of Maes and has been making visits to Maes' widowed wife, Gracia that seems to help her find comfort as well.

2)Wartime Roy has just been abandoned by Dr. Marcoh in his healing and rehabilitating process. Roy is still unable to walk or use his hands in a coordinated fashion.

3)Military academy Roy has just been assigned as Maes' new roommate. Roy has just had a run in with Maes' alchemist hating friend and old roommate, Peter.

* * *

**Part 4: Finally**

_I shouldn't have believed in you…I should have let you burn…_

Choking. All Roy could remember from that night was the scorching flames and the thick heat and smoke smothering the life out of him. Instinctively, he had clung to his mother, though she had collapsed long before he had found her. Sadly, Roy couldn't even remember what she had looked like, now. He only could remember the smoke and flames.

When he opened his eyes again, the young boy was met with equally wide, brown—nearly scarlet in the sunlight—eyes staring curiously, back at him. Her name was Riza.

_(At the academy infirmary…)_

Like all times after that night, Roy awoke with a gasp, his fingers habitually running themselves over the smooth patches of scars down the right side of his neck.

Several beds down, behind many layers of curtains, he could hear a bit of scrambling and movement as the nurses and doctors seemed to have just received another patient. "I've just never seen anything like this before," he could have sworn he heard someone say. An eerie, dreadful feeling washed over Roy briefly. Whatever it was, it was bad. It made his skin crawl all over just like _that night_ of which he only remembered the smoke and flames.

Roy groaned, his wounds and bruises throbbing hotly and becoming more apparent as he became more awake. Thankfully, despite the pain, it appeared that none of his bones were broken.

Suddenly, something touched him. Roy flinched, instinctively pulling his hand back in close. His heart jumped. However, his guard melted as soon as he turned his head to look to see what had brushed up against him.

"Hughes…" Roy whispered his name though not loud enough to arouse him. Maes was snoozing in a small wooden chair pulled up alongside the bed. His tall figure was slumped forward and taking up a small portion of the mattress. The soft moonlight that spilled in from between the wispy curtains highlighted his strong jaw and glinted off the thin, silver frames of his glasses.

"How long had Hughes been there? Why is he there and why had he stayed?" Roy mused to himself as his swollen eyes fell shut again, his body succumbing to fatigue once more. Feeling Maes' warm, steady breath against his hand again was comforting and made it easier to forget about the aches and bruises of his battered body. Just like the time on the train, Hughes' sheer presence seemingly washed away all pain and torture.

Sadly, in the morning when Roy opened his eyes again, Hughes was gone.

_(2 years later…in the Cathedral of the Blessed…somewhere in Ishbal…)_

The nuns were worried about the young Major Mustang. He had stopped eating and turned away all aid and care. Often, in the middle of the night he would let out a wail in frustration and agony, waking the other patients. Always, when they would run to his bedside to see what-was -the- matter, he would angrily curse at them until they stayed away.

According to a nurse who was able to peak between the tightly drawn, yellow curtains around his bed, his space was littered with sheets upon sheets of crinkled paper. She had told the others that he appeared to be attempting to write letters to his loved ones but was failing due to his lack of coordination. If she had looked closer, she would have realized that the papers were not failed letters but were actually endless strings of non-continuous and crooked circles...

_(Back at the military academy…2 years ago...Maes has just left the infirmary…)_

Outside of the mess hall Maes caught sight of Peter. He kept a stern look on his face though Peter grinned at him, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. In seemingly good spirits, he made his way to Maes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hughes pushed Peter down an adjacent alley before he could complete his usual obnoxious greeting.

"Hey watch it," Peter stumbled back, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He brushed himself off.

Maes nostrils flared, "Do you have any idea how much trouble you can get me into if the academy finds out that you attacked another cadet? I shouldn't have leant you my key without questioning you. Why the hell did you need to go back to the dorm room anyway? Were you looking for something? I come back to find the door wide open, everything strewn about, and that alchemy kid unconscious and bleeding on the floor." Hughes ran his fingers through his hair, "Damn it! You know, if they come around asking me questions, I'm obligated by military law to confess everything that I know."

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing," the angel haired, young man placed his hands in his pockets, "I wasn't looking for anything or nothin'. It doesn't matter, anyways. The faggot isn't going to talk and they'll never know that it was your key that let me in." With a shrug, he tried to push past Maes.

"No, Peter," Maes blocked Peter's exit and pushed him back a few steps, again. "It isn't just nothing. You've done this before, except every time it's worse. Peter, we just got here and…you could have killed that kid!" For a brief moment, he recalled how the dark haired alchemist had flinched at his gentle touch when had knelt down to help him.

"Now, I promised Mom I'd take care of you," Maes continued, blinking the recollection away, "So now I'm telling you AGAIN, this has got to stop. You have to tell the others that they've got to stop too. We aren't country boys pretending to be in a gang anymore. You can't just go around assaulting every alchemist you see. I can't keep bailing you out all the time. I've said this several times before. Peter, you have to realize that no matter how many alchemists you beat bloody, none of them will ever be _him._"

At even the mere reference to "him," Peter's eyes grew wild, a fire dancing in his dark eyes. He scowled, "Who said it had to be?" Though Hughes stood firm, an icy chill ran down his spine as Peter walked casually back out onto the cobblestone street. For a moment, Hughes had wished he had never mentioned "him."

"They're all the same, Hughes," Peter spat, "They all think that they can play God and control us. People like that don't deserve to be treated like good people. I thought you understood that. You're my brother. You should."

Maes swallowed hard. "You're right, I should," he turned to face Peter again, "but I don't. You've gone too far this time, Peter, and if you're not going to stop this all, I'm going to tell the Dean."

Peter's steel colored eyes widened and hardened, "Careful, Brother, we don't want to be making empty threats, now. One of these days, you may be forced to follow through."

"I mean it, Peter. Unless you promise me now that neither you nor the others will attack anyone else, I am going to the Dean."

"So you're finally siding with them, huh? Somehow I knew that eventually you would. Aren't we all high and mighty now?" The angel haired boy snickered, "Strange, though. You're hands are as bloody as mine. Don't you remember all those alchemy brats we'd take down on their way to school. How we used to tear the pages from their books and the alchemy circles into shreds?" Peter's smile widened as he spoke, "Even if you didn't throw a punch, you'd always hold them down for me…"

Hughes clenched his jaw and lowered his head. He hated knowing that what Peter said was true.

"I know you, Maes," Peter said still grinning, "You're not really going to go to the Dean. You know what will happen if you do. "

"Though, I see where you stand, now," Peter continued, his words cutting into Maes, "You pretend to be looking out for me and that you care, but really, you're nothing but a traitor." Peter laughed again, "I'm going to leave you now and let you think about what we've talked about, here. In time, I'm sure you'll come around. You're lucky I'm usually a forgiving person. As long as you apologize, I'll even forgive a traitor like you."

Even after Peter stepped away, his icy hiss reverberated throughout the narrow alley, enveloping Maes in echoes, "Traitor..."

_(Back at the school infirmary…) _

Hughes suddenly lost his breath. When he returned to his new roommate's hospital bed, there was a thin white sheet pulled up over the form of a man. Maes choked as his chest tightened and his eyes began to well up, "How?"

_Was it natural to have tears for someone you never knew? Was it normal to miss a person you've only met once, already?_

Slowly, Maes' timid fingertips reached up to displace the stark white cloth.

"Did you know him?" At the sound of the firm voice, Hughes stopped.

Maes hesitated briefly before turning around. Behind him in the far corner, an older man with thick glasses uncrossed his arms and lit a cigarette. The collar of his white coat was unevenly wrinkled and dirty with specks of cigarette ash visible on its edges. Stitched above his rumpled right breast pocket, in black, supposedly fancy, semi-cursive letters was the name and title "Dr. Knox"

"Did you know him?" Dr. Knox repeated stepping up to the side of the table, next to Hughes.

"Barely had the chance to-," Maes flinched away when without pause, Dr. Knox whipped back the corner of the shroud. The young cadet shuttered at the sight before him. "Wait that's not…" he finally said as he overcame his initial shock.

"Not who you're looking for?" Knox finished the young man's sentence, "I figured that was the case. It would have been too lucky of us to already have someone here to identify this fellow. Given the severe mutilation and burns, we haven't been able to pinpoint the initial cause of death, let alone indentify him. Poor bastard…" The doctor trailed off, "I've just never seen anything like this…" He paused momentarily before dropping the corner of the cloth back down.

The doctor took a long drag from his limp cigarette. "Your must be looking for the alchemy student that was discharged from this room earlier this morning. You just missed him," he said flatly as he continued to gaze at the white sheet resting over the body.

"Thank you, Doctor," Hughes said quietly as he backed out of the room.

Once he was a few steps away from the infirmary, Hughes found himself running down the cobbled street. He headed North, towards the dormitories, his eyes searching his path frantically as he went.

When Maes rounded the corner, he suddenly slowed to a walk.

"What am I doing?" Hughes laughed at himself as he caught his breath. Why was he so worried? The kid was probably alright; otherwise the infirmary wouldn't have discharged him. Odds were that he was back at the dorm resting comfortably. He placed his hands in his pockets.

Maes was chuckling at himself again when he saw Roy standing in front of the main lecture hall. Instantly Hughes' smile melted away. However, he had to admit that a part of him was relieved to see the dark haired young man standing on the steps in front of him.

The young alchemist's shoulders were hunched, his head hung low. His dark hair fell over the thick white bandage about his head and into his swollen eyes. Roy only wore one sleeve of his thick military coat, his left arm resting underneath it in a sling. In front of the alchemist, just above his head, was pinned a single sheet of paper that read, "Alchemy Placement Exam in process, DO NOT ENTER."

Just as Hughes reached out to touch the brooding young man, Roy raised up the fist of his good hand and slammed it once against the locked door.

"Damn it," Roy whispered. He rested his forehead against the weathered door. After a moment, he turned slowly in the direction opposite of Hughes, a noticeable limp in his gait.

Suddenly a strong hand came down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Roy's heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened as his nostrils flared to deeply inhale the unmistakable scent. Instantly, several hazy memories of Hughes taking him up in his arms and sprinting down the street to the infirmary flickered across his mind. Roy turned his head to look at Hughes who stepped up next to him.

"Come on," Maes gently placed his arm around the battered alchemist, "Let's get out of here."

_(Present day…)_

It was Thursday again and, once more, Roy found himself in Gracia's and Elyssia's company. During the time when Gracia would go to fetch the tea and as Elyssia played with her toys behind the couch, Roy would often close his eyes, tip his head back, and breathe deeply. How lucky they were for their place to still smell like Maes even months after his death. Mustang wondered if they even noticed it. Sometimes, if Roy could concentrate hard enough, he could swear he could feel Maes' arm around him, again.

* * *

**Additional notes** I know the chapter still had some jumping around between the 3 different plots but I'm trying to ease into focusing on one plot mainly with only some parallel scenes from the other 2 plotlines presented at the beginning and/or end of the chapter (as a sort of "frame" for you English types out there). Trust me…this will all make sense soon as more pieces of the puzzle are presented (The questions is…can you see the one's I've already presented? ;) ).

Again sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. Hopefully it won't take as long for the next chapter to be released… I really struggled with this one to get the scenes and the words to flow better. Hope it turned out OK and that you liked it. Please review!


	5. Chapter 5: Thank You

**Disclaimer**: The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.

**Author's Notes:** Is anyone still out there? I haven't gotten much feedback lately so I'm starting to fear that I may have lost you all. Thank you for reading if you still are and especially thank you to those of you who have left comments in the past. I know this fic is progressing a little slower than others but, for what it's worth, I promise you it'll pick up soon.

_ Previously, in the last chapter…_

1) Present day Roy is still coping with the loss of Maes and has been making visits to Maes' widowed wife, Gracia that seems to help her find comfort as well.

2)Wartime Roy is growing even more frustrated as he finds that he is unable to connect the ends of pencil lines on paper to even form complete circles.

3)Military academy Roy is recuperating from his encounter with Peter and has finally had a "proper" introduction to his new roommate, Maes.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Thank you**

"I don't get it," Maes said after they returned to the dorm room. It was still a shambles, thanks to Peter. Maes grabbed a broom from the closet and began to sweep the floor, "I thought the State Alchemy Exams weren't for another year."

"They aren't," Roy sighed, taking up a small stack of books in his good hand. He placed them on the desk adjacent to his bed, "That test today was the preliminary skills exam or Alchemy Placement Exam. The test scores determine your alchemy class rank as well as whether or not you qualify for the advanced or intermediate classes instead of the introduction courses with the rest of the cadets. Regardless of score, you must take the preliminary exam to even be officially enrolled into the military alchemic preparatory program."

Hughes' heart sank. He stopped sweeping for a moment, "So you can't take the State Alchemy Exam unless you've passed the prelim test, then?"

Roy shook his head and continued to gather his books off the floor and neatly stack them on his desk, "These courses are only optional. Anyone off the street may apply to take the State Alchemy Exam. However these classes are _highly recommended_. To date, only a few have passed the State Alchemy Exam without having taken these preparatory classes."

"But don't you already know alchemy?" Maes tapped his silver framed glasses, "Why would you have to take the preparatory alchemy classes?"

Roy shook his head, "Professor Hawkeye ended my apprenticeship and kicked me out before I learned anything beyond the basic circles." He trailed off and leaned against his side of his, still bare mattress.

_ I shouldn't have believed in you…I should have let you burn…_

"Heh," Maes smiled, recognizing the Professor's name, "What? Did he accuse of you getting too close to his daughter? He catch you kissing her?"

"No," Roy said distantly, "She wanted me to, though."

* * *

_ A couple years later…_

Before Mustang knew it, it was morning, again. Despite another sleepless night, he still couldn't connect the lines of the damn alchemy circles. _ Could he even remember what they looked like?_ With shaking hands, he rubbed his eyes. _ God damn it. He couldn't stop them from shaking._

Bright yellow sunlight streamed in through the open and stained glass windows, casting shards of colored light across the thin, yellow curtains around his bed. Every so often a gentle breeze would billow through the curtains, making the colors roll like ocean waves around him.

Suddenly a ghostly silhouette stepped up on the other side of the curtains, interrupting the dancing colors.

"I told you, damn nuns," Roy began to raise his voice when he heard the footsteps, "Leave me b—" He didn't finish his sentence. A brief peaceful calm washed over the war battered soldier as his mind whispered, "Maes?" Despite all that he'd been through, he still couldn't put his old roommate out of his mind.

When the curtains, parted, Roy's eyes widened at the person who stepped through.

"Hawkeye?" Roy said, his voice still hoarse, "Damn, they've got you here too…"

Riza smiled. Tears were in her eyes. "It's so good to see you, Roy," she said quietly. In later years, Roy would realize that it was the first time since they were kids that she had called him by his first name. Back then, she always called him, "Mustang."

Roy nodded, "It's been a long time hasn't it? Heck of a place to reconnect though." He cast his eyes down. For some reason, a part of him had suddenly become embarrassed about the mess he had made of his space.

As Riza stepped forward, the tears in her eyes began to overflow, running clear trails through the dirt smudges on her cheeks. She set down her helmet and rifle and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Several wrinkled sheets of papers on Roy's lap slid to the ground.

"Hawkeye…" Roy had never seen her cry before. For an instant, time seemed to slow as Roy took in the sight of her so close. The shards of colored light swirled around her. Even with the dirt smudged across her face and her short, golden hair disheveled, Mustang had to admit that she was beautiful. Slowly, Roy leaned in and raised his hand to touch her face. It was as if his fingertips wanted to confirm her physical presence. Strangely, his hands were no longer trembling.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Riza jumped up to stand, again, just as Roy could feel her sweet breath on his palm. She quickly wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, "It's just that they told everyone back home that you were dead."

"What? But I've been here at the hospital for the last few months."

"Communication has be sketchy, Sir. It's only by chance that I'm here now."

Roy looked down again and laughed when he saw that his hands were shaking again, "Perhaps it's for the better. State Alchemist Mustang might as well be dead."

Silence fell across the small curtained space for a moment. A warm breeze swayed across the curtains once more.

"He misses you, you know?" Riza finally broke the silence, "Captain Hughes, that is."

"Maes," Roy looked up, "Is he here too?" While a part of him longed for Riza to say "Yes" the other half of him hoped that he hadn't been condemned to this place as well.

"No, not yet," Riza replied, "But back home, right before I shipped out and before it was reported that you had died, he mentioned you quite a few times. I haven't seen him since I shipped out, though."

Roy let out a sigh. _ Was it a sigh of relief or…_

"You should write him," Riza said, her eyes tracing over the infinite broken circles scrawled across the scattered papers around Roy's hospital bed, "Of course I'll send word along that you're alive but my company will be passing through this area again next month. I can deliver your letter to the coast base and have it mailed then, if you'd like, Sir."

"Hawkeye…my hands…I can't—"

Riza continued without allowing Roy to fully respond, "Father emphasized perfect calligraphy just as much as precise alchemy." Her eyes continued to linger on the incomplete circles, "He always told me that one must master the basics of letters before understanding the intricacies of alchemy circles."

"Hawkeye…"

* * *

_ A couple years earlier, back in the disheveled dorm room…_

After a moment, Hughes stepped up to Roy's desk and placed a large stack of books that he had gathered onto Roy's desk. Roy looked up at Maes.

"Well no sense living in the past. If you're going to pass the State Alchemy Exam you'd better get studying, then," Hughes said, his eyes smiling. _His eyes are golden…_

They shared a chuckle before straightening out their room again.

A few hours later, Roy collapsed back on his now fully made up bed. He grimaced. With his good hand he rubbed his opposite arm. Though it was in a sling, it had began to throb again.

Turning his head, Roy watched his new roommate continue to straighten his half of the room. A smirk slowly spread across his face. Maes was slightly comical to watch.

Despite Roy's help, Maes' half of the room still appeared slightly unkempt. Though his school texts and papers were stacked, they were misaligned and appeared ready to topple over at even the slightest agitation. His uniforms lay in a wrinkled heap next to his bureau, that was also littered with various personal affects. The clutter included several black, plastic combs, 3 half used bottles of amber cologn, an open straight razor shaving kit, a cracked wooden glasses case, coin change, wrinkled ticket stubs from the nearby movie house, and dried flower petals.

Along the bottom of the mirror, were wedged a few dog eared photographs. One was of a woman smiling next to a bicycle. Roy recognized her as Gracia, the girl who worked at the grocery store in his hometown. She was a nice girl. Her picture was particularly weathered, suggesting that Maes often took the picture with him whenever he went out.

The next photo was of a young Maes surrounded by a group of equally rambunctious looking boys. They were quite young in this picture. The pale haired boy grinning next to Maes looked familiar.

The final picture that Roy could see from where he lay, appeared to be a family picture. A woman, who Roy assumed was Maes' mother stood behind a young Maes and, again, there was the pale haired boy. This time, though, he wasn't smiling. Roy squinted.

Suddenly, as if something clicked in Roy's mind, his eyes widened. He recognized the pale haired boy now. His stomach turned and his heart sank. The boy was Maes' brother. The boy was Peter. Roy looked back at the group picture of Maes and his friends. Mustang recognized the others now too. He remembered them from his hometown. They were the ones who Roy had avoided as a boy…they were the ones who would often torment and batter known alchemists, alchemy students, and anyone associated with them. His most vivid memory of them was when he and Riza were cornered by them once while coming home from school. Roy's injuries and body ached all over again at the mere memory of the encounter. However, he remembered that even then, Riza never cried.

"You alright, kid?" Roy jumped at Maes' voice, "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"You're Peter's brother," Roy blurted out the last thing on his mind. He didn't look Hughes in the eye.

Maes' initially wide eyes saddened slightly as he realized what had struck fear in the young alchemist, "Half-brother. But don't worry, I'm nothing like him," Maes lowered his head, "At least not anymore." _ Traitor._

"You're safe now, don't worry," Maes said. He wasn't sure what else to say to break the stiff silence.

"You don't remember me do you?" Roy finally said quietly.

Hughes knelt down next to the bed and closed his eyes. He shook his head. He was afraid he didn't, but he already had an idea of what he had done to the young man in the past.

"I'm sorry," Hughes said after another pause, "I'm so sorry." _ Was there a way to undo it all?_

Eventually Roy raised the fist of his good hand. Maes squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a well deserved blow. Hughes opened them again, when he felt Roy gently pat him on the head and run his thin fingers through his dark brown hair. Maes had to honestly admit that it felt quite nice.

"So you're seeing Gracia from the grocery store, huh?" Roy said, unsure as to why he continued to ruffle Maes' hair.

Hughes looked up and glanced back at the picture in his mirror. Roy's hand fell back to his side, "Oh, well, not really. That was only for one summer, last summer before I enlisted, actually. I haven't seen her since then."

The hours past into night and well after lights out, they reminisced about home and spoke of random things. Roy wondered how he could have lived so close to someone and never have known them until now.

"My father was a State Alchemist, actually," Hughes said, "He was hardly home, though, and we Peter and I hardly knew him. He was always away at the lab working on his research. I don't hate the man as much as Peter does, but I do know that when I become a father one day, my children will know me." Hughes chuckled, "I doubt he's disappointed I didn't get into alchemy like he did. Funny that I ended up joining the military like him though. How about you? Your father pressure you into alchemy?"

Roy paused, his eyes searching the darkness above him as his hand subconsciously rubbed the smooth hillocks of the burn scar on his neck.

"Both of my parents are dead," Roy said flatly, "When I was 7, there was a house fire. By the time the fire brigade got there, there was nothing they could do but to contain it. Using alchemy, Professor Hawkeye was able to put out most of the flames and save me, but as for my parents…it was already too late for them."

"Roy," Maes turned in his bed to face his roommate's side of the room, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright…I hardly even remember what they look like now…My aunt officially adopted me and saved me from going to the orphanage. However, after the fire, the Professor took me under his wing as his apprentice and I spent most of my time growing up with the Hawkeyes. I want to help people with alchemy just as the Professor helped me and so I saw the military State Alchemy program as my best bet to be able to do that. Sadly the Professor didn't agree with that idea and he threw me out."

There was another silence and for a moment Roy thought that Maes had fallen asleep during his story.

"So that's why you're so dead set on passing that State Alchemy Exam," Hughes finally said half to himself, "You know my father still has connections to the alchemy program here. I can see if I can drop his name and pull some strings to get you a position in one of the alchemy labs as a lab tech. I can't promise you that they'll let you in on their research projects. In fact they'll most likely use you for scrub work and clean up. But it'll at least give you access to the laboratory after hours and allow you use of the materials for you to practice."

"Hughes, you don't have to do that."

"No, don't worry about it. It's nothing. I like your fire and perseverance, Mustang. Not many people have it like you do and it'd be a waste if no one fueled your fire. So I'll gladly be the fuel for your pyre."

* * *

_(Present day…)_

_ "I'll work below you and help push you to the top…"_

A sad smile spread across Roy's lips as he gazed out his office at Central Command. _Damn it. Why had he suddenly thought of that silly moment now? Maes was supposed to work under Roy…not rot underground. How does is that promise supposed to work now?_

Outside, the rain fell steadily. One by one, the street lamps turned on as evening was approaching. By now, everyone in the office except for Lt. Hawkeye had gone home.

"Your tea, Sir," Riza shifted a stack of still uncompleted paperwork to the side and set a steaming ceramic cup and saucer down in front of him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Roy took a small sip, "It's perfect, as always." For some reason, since Maes had past away, Gracia's tea seemed to have a bitter aftertaste to it.

"Thank you, Sir," Riza nodded once politely.

Not a word passed between the two for quite some time as they sat across from each other and sipped their tea.

"Oh, Sir," Hawkeye said after she finally looked up at the Colonel, "You're missing a button."

"Hmm?" Roy perked up.

"On your collar, Sir."

"Oh," Roy touched the well pressed collar of his uniform and felt only a lonely knot at the top where a button used to be, "so, I am." The sound of buttons clattering to a hardwood floor echoed in his mind. He thought he had gotten them all since _that night._

"If I may, Sir, I have an extra one here," quickly, Riza produced one along with needle and dark blue thread from her desk

"It's alright, Lieutenant," Roy's reassurance fell on deaf ears.

"We wouldn't want Lt. General Grumman to notice that tonight during your dinner meeting," Riza continued as she walked around the desk and gestured for Roy to stand up, "He may think it unprofessional of us."

Roy chuckled mildly, stood up, and began to remove his outer jacket.

"No no," Riza stopped him, "You just stand there like that, Sir. Tilt your head up slightly so I can see. It'll only take a moment."

Standing very still, Roy watched Riza from the corner of his eye. She was very close and he could just barely smell the warm, sweet scent of her smooth golden hair. Oddly, the scent distantly reminded him of home. With each gentle tug of her sewing fingers, Roy's heart skipped a beat.

"There," Riza whispered after no time at all. To free the needle and excess thread from his collar she leaned in even closer and clipped the thread taut over her teeth once in one quick motion.

Roy looked back down at her, meeting her brown, nearly scarlet eyes. Rapidly, Riza's fingers ran themselves over the newly attached button and collar, smoothing it out. Mustang could feel her soft breath on his lips.

"Thank you, Riza," his voice was but a whisper.

"Sir," the lieutenant looked back down at her feet and took a step back.

Roy sighed and turned back to gaze at the water running down the window pane, "You're dismissed for the evening, now."

"Goodnight, Sir."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."

* * *

**Additional A/N** I know, I know…another slow, boring chapter, huh? Perhaps this is why I've lost most of you, most likely, to juicier more steamy fics. Personally, I'm a fan of "the tension" and subtle actions. So I'm trying to write a different fic than usual. But I promise things will get more exciting in the next chapter when I start to jump into more of the plot I have brewing (Yes, there is a larger plot than Maes/Roy and Roy/Riza tension ;) ). Think of this as the "calm before the storm." I just wanted to take some care in laying out the situations and laying out the scene of this fic. I definitely took a different, longer approach to this than I had originally planned. And I hope that those of you left can appreciate the careful setting and are enjoying this fic despite the slow beginnings. Thank you for reading if you still are. For you truly understand the art of the written word…even if it is "just a fic."


	6. Chapter 6: Alchemic Studies

**Disclaimer**: The following is based on characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.

**Author's Notes:** Again sorry for taking so long on the release on this chapter. I had reached a point where I wanted to further enrich the plot and make things a bit more exciting. So I tried really hard to do that here and it ended up taking a little while longer than expected. Thank you to those of you who left comments and encouraged me to update. It really helped inspire me. Please enjoy the chapter!

_Previously in the last chapter…_

1) Present day Roy is still coping with the loss of Maes. In her own subtle way, Riza consoles Roy. However, like always, she withdraws back into her professional role before Roy can fully express his appreciation.

2)Wartime Roy got an unexpected visit from his childhood friend, Riza. She informs Roy that, back at home, it had been reported that he had died and that Maes seems to miss him greatly. She encourages Roy to write Maes.

3)Military academy Roy and Maes get to know each other more. As if to repent for his past sins as a bully, Maes promises to help Roy become a State Alchemist. He plans to do this by first pulling strings to get Roy a job in the alchemy labs.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Alchemic Studies**

"Damn it, Maes!" Roy threw down his metal compass and chalk , "I can't do this! These alchemy circles aren't making any sense to me! I think I'll just settle as a paper pusher like you." How could he become a State Alchemist if he couldn't even do the homework for the "Introduction to Alchemy" class?

"Oh come on, Roy," Maes got up from his desk and crossed the room to Roy's side, "You've done harder things than this before when you were with old man Hawkeye, yeah? I think you're just over complicating things. This is just a simple reorganization circle. It's just a shifting around of material. There's not even any chemical reformation involved. I mean I did it and I definitely know I'm not state alchemist material. So you should be able to do it too. I believe in you."

* * *

_(At the Cathedral of the Blessed…a year later…)_

Roy smiled and chuckled at the memory to himself. With a renewed vigor he picked up his dull pencil from where he had thrown it down moments before.

He paused a moment before erasing the uneven letters he had written down. "Dear Hughes," it had read. Starting again, Roy began to write more even and definite letters, "Dear Maes."

* * *

_(A year or so ago…in the military academy dorm room…)_

_Kaboom!_ Windows throughout the dormitory rattled in their frames.

Outside, along with many others on the street, Maes whipped his head up at the large sound that came from above. When he saw Roy quickly open their dorm room window to let out the thick, black smoke inside, Hughes gasped. Quickly he ran past the bystanders on the dormitory steps. Just as he came down the hall, the door to their room opened. The future flame alchemist backed out of the doorway fanning at the smoke with a paperback alchemy manual. He pushed his ash covered alchemy goggles to his forehead.

"Oh…Hughes, you're back early…" Mustang said in between coughs.

"Ahh!" Maes' voice went up several octaves when he looked inside their doorway. Dashing into the smoke filled room, Maes hysterically rifled through what appeared to be a singed pile of his belongings.

"Ahhh!" He shrieked, again. The corner of Gracia's picture was burning when he got to it. Swiftly, Maes patted the small flame out and let out a small sigh of relief when he found that no large part of the picture was damaged. He hugged the photo close against his chest as he came out of the room.

"You alchemy-ed in the room?" Maes finally exclaimed after he gained some control over his breathing, "I said, 'I'd be the fuel for your pyre,' but this isn't exactly what I had in mind." His voice up a few octaves again as he said the last part.

"Well I…uh…" Roy readjusted the ash caked alchemy goggles on his forehead. They had left a clean outline where they had stopped the soot from depositing in the area around his eyes. The young alchemist gestured with his hands, pointing at the room. His thick, rubber alchemy gloves had lost all shine as they were also covered in black powder. "…I…uh…I tried to…" Roy smiled nervously, sweat forming on his brow, "…it wasn't supposed to…"

"Ah never mind," Hughes waved his hand and then grabbed Mustang's wrist, "Come on, we have a meeting with Lt. General Knightly." Maes began to pull the sheepish cadet down the hall.

"Wait, Lt. General Knightly?" Roy stopped their walk down the hall, "You mean the Dean of Alchemic Studies! I'm not dressed appropriately. I should be in uniform."

"And what makes you think your uniform is in any better condition than the clothes you're wearing now?" Hughes briskly brushed some dark soot off of Mustang's shoulders where his apron had not covered him, "Besides, you don't have time for that. We have to get going now or you'll be late." With that, Hughes continued to lead the bewildered, young alchemist along.

The Alchemic Studies building was once an old seminary school. If one looked closely enough and in the right places one could still make out the worn etchings and inscriptions of Latin, Biblical proverbs above doorways and passages. Over East Campus the building loomed with its high arches and dark steeples. Time had long ago stained its brick and mortar structure an ashen black as if it had been singed in a fire once.

From a midlevel window, Mustang squinted up at the gnarled gargoyles along the eaves. No matter how horrid gargoyles looked, the young alchemist always thought they looked scared.

"Lt. General Knightly, this is Roy Mustang," Hughes' voice reverberated down the marble checked hall as he and an older, serious looking gentleman in a lab coat walked towards him, "the cadet I was telling you about."

Roy turned and straightened his posture, "Sir." He saluted the older gentleman. To be honest, time must have been kind to the "older" gentleman. Though his hair was angel white, he did not appear that much older than he or Maes. In fact, the Lt. General had the air and appearance of a finely groomed business man than an alchemist.

"At ease, cadet," the white haired gentleman saluted with a loose gesture. His voice was smooth, "Please, this is an academic institution, no need for military formalities here." He extended his hand to Roy.

Roy gave the hand a firm shake. "Please forgive me appearance, Sir," Roy added as the Lt. General looked at the soot left in his palm after the hand shake, "I had a bit of a mishap on the way here."

"I see," Lt. General Knightly glanced at Hughes before producing a red handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hand on it. After doing so, he gestured for the two cadets to follow him back down the hall towards his office.

The advanced classes were in session and Mustang couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat every time his ear caught bits of alchemy lectures and alchemy terms escaping from the classrooms and labs. _If only he could have ranked with the other alchemy students on the Alchemy Placement Exam. He belonged here…_

"So Maes tells me that you were Brethold Hawkeye's apprentice," the Lt. General said as they past more classrooms.

Pulling his attention away from the bits of alchemy speak, Mustang nodded and made a confirmatory noise in his throat, "Unh."

"He's a talented man and I am a great admirer of his research. It's too bad about that his respiratory condition, though. I heard that some time ago he sustained a devastating lung injury during a house fire of some sort. Bless the man, I heard he was trying to save family."

Unseen by the Knightly, the young alchemist's dark eyes saddened slightly and he lowered his head.

"It's unfortunate. I'm sure such an extensive health condition hinders his abilities and the progress of his work greatly," The Lt. General briefly glanced over his shoulder at Roy, "How is the good Professor doing, anyway?"

At that moment they stopped walking. The corridor had opened up into a larger area again. Lt. General Knightly turned to face the two young men.

"Sir," Maes interjected, having noticed his roommate's solemn demeanor, "with all due respect, perhaps we should discuss the laboratory position you had in mind for Roy. You do have a lecture to give in the next hour, yes? Roy and I would hate to keep you and to make you late for it."

"Heh," Knightly chuckled, "You're just like your father." He clapped Maes firmly on the back, "Always down to business and business all the time. It's sad that you didn't follow in his footsteps. You would have made a great alchemist." The Lt. General turned and took a few steps towards a door along the far wall.

Hughes narrowed his eyes and forced a smiled, "If only he had been as good of a father as he was an alchemist."

"I beg your pardon?" Knightly said over his shoulder as he rummaged in his pockets for his office keys.

"I said, 'I doubt anyone could be as good as my father was at being an alchemist,'" Hughes winked at Mustang. The young alchemist smirked, breaking the sad look on his face. _How easy it was for those golden eyes to make Roy smile._

Knightly chuckled again, "Indeed." Finally, he unlocked the door and gestured for the two cadets to enter his office.

* * *

_Less than an hour later…_

"Excellent," Lt. General Knightly clasped his hands together, "It is an absolute honor to have the apprentice of Professor Brethold Hawkeye work in my lab. So can you start right away, son? As in today, right now?"

"Uh, yes, of course, Sir," The young alchemist said hesitantly as he was caught off guard by the Lt. General's sudden enthusiasm. Roy looked at Maes as the thought of the soot caked dorm room they had left behind entered his mind.

"Wonderful. Follow me, then," Knightly jumped up from his chair and lead them down the hallway perpendicular to the one they originally came down.

"I'm sorry to say to that you will be working mostly in the glassware and washroom, so you won't be able to sit in on any of the lectures. However, at times I may need use you as my assistant during demonstrations for the advanced classes. The classroom laboratories are all located along this hallway on this floor and the 2 below it. For your own safety, DO NOT venture into the basement alchemy laboratories. Those are a part of the military research department and you would need special military clearance to enter those laboratories. Your main duty is to collect the dirty glassware and equipment from the teaching laboratories at the end of each day and to have it all clean in time for classes the next day. The first laboratory class is at 8AM and the last laboratory class ends at 5PM. ."

"And what of the left over chemicals and elements, Sir?" Roy said just as they arrived at the glassware and equipment washroom.

"Ah yes," Knightly smiled, "Like a true alchemist, or a mad scientist, I suppose, you're already thinking about what materials you may have access to. I would expect no less from Brethold's apprentice." Lt. General Knightly led the two cadets into the cramped washroom. Ceiling to floor, the walls were lined with stacks upon stacks of all sorts of glass flasks, cylinders, and tubes.

"Unfortunately, due to department budget cuts, I cannot allow you unlimited access to alchemy elements and materials. Such access is only for the advanced alchemy students who ranked on the Alchemy Placement Exam."

Roy cast his eyes down briefly.

"However, since young, Mr. Hughes speaks so highly of you and since his father was a good colleague of mine, I will grant you unlimited, 24 hour access to the lab space as well as whatever alchemic materials are left over from the day's classes so that you may do with them what you will. Just be sure to dispose of your chemical waste properly."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now," Knightly turned to a large metal sink piled high with more dirty alchemy equipment, "Lucky for you, today, someone has already collected all the soiled materials from the classrooms and has brought them here for you." Knightly pointed to additional carts that surrounded the sink and lined the narrow walkway they had just stepped through. They were filled with even more used alchemy supplies. Roy's eyes widened at the sight of it all.

"Here are your keys. Here's your bottle brush," the Lt. General handed Roy a ring of keys and a gnarled brush with several patches of missing bristles, "There's the soap. I would get started if I were you. Try not to break anything."

Still with wide eyes, Roy turned slowly turned to Maes who only smiled nervously back at him while scratching the back of his neck.

"Now I must be going. I have a lecture to give, you know? Remember," Knightly said as he quickly left the room, "this all needs to be clean by the first class at 8AM tomorrow!"

Sweat started to bead up on Roy's brow again. "Hughes, you gotta help me," Roy turned around just in time to see Maes slip out another door.

"Lazy bastard," Roy grumbled.

"I heard that!" Maes' voice came through the door. He was using that high pitched tone again, "Who you calling lazy? Who do you think is going to have to straighten up the room in time for evening inspection tonight after the mess you made!" Hughes' voice faded as he walked further down the hall, away from the washroom and Roy could only catch a few fragments of Maes' retorts, "Spoiled…inconsiderate…I'm trying to help...sheesh!"

Roy laughed. He smiled for the rest of the time he was in the washroom. Even several hours later, as he walked out of the Alchemic Studies Building, the soft smile was still there.

By then it was already dark, which made the East Campus especially creepy. The thick fog settling in wasn't helping either. In the far distance, someone was whistling a haunting tune.

The young alchemist rolled his sleeves back down and let out a heavy sigh. His hands were so raw from the harsh soap and all the scrubbing he had to do. Roy shuttered at the thought of all the dirty glassware that would be awaiting him the next night. Hopefully, next time there wouldn't be as much so he would have time to experiment with some of the leftover elements in the lab space.

Roy rubbed his temples. _How late was it, anyway?_

When Roy looked up again, he suddenly froze and lost his breath. He wasn't far from the bottom of the front steps leading to Alchemic Studies Building when he saw…

"Peter? Here?" Roy exclaimed to himself as eyes widened. Peter was walking in the opposite direction, coming towards him. It was he who was whistling that ever so haunting, yet familiar tune. Mustang held his breath.

Perhaps it was the fog and perhaps Peter was just far enough away that when he passed Roy, he didn't even react. It was as if he didn't even see Roy. However, he was so close to Mustang, that the young alchemist could nearly smell him. He smelled pungently of smoke and ash.

After a moment, Mustang turned and squinted. He watched the figure fade into the fog and head directly towards the Alchemic Studies Building. _Was it him?_

"It couldn't be," Roy thought to himself, "Peter wouldn't be caught dead here, let alone caught walking calmly into an alchemic institution. It can't be him…but that bleached blonde hair…and that scent…" It was so strong when Peter had him pinned in the train car.

After another moment, the alchemist shrugged, "No it can't be him." Mustang must have been more tired than he thought.

* * *

_Back at the dorm…_

"Ah, there you are, Mustang," Fresh out of the shower, Hughes was clad in nothing but a towel about his thin waist. He glanced away from his mirror and looked over his shoulder at the tired alchemist who collapsed face down onto his bed, "I was starting to get a little worried. You know you probably shouldn't stay out too late if you can help it. They say there's a serial killer out there who likes to slash and burn young cadets." The gory image of the charred and mutilated corpse that Maes saw at the infirmary right before he met Roy flickered across his memory. Maes' stomach turned over once. "Military Police officials haven't been able to get even close identifying the killer yet, let alone a motive."

Hughes turned and leaned against his bureau when Roy didn't respond, "You also should really wash all that soot off before you soil your sheets like that. You have no idea how hard it is to get out of fabric." Hughes turned back to his mirror and swished his straight razor in his water basin a few times before continuing, "Heck, I'm surprised I was able to clean up the room up to look almost normal again before evening inspection. And I just barely made it before-"

"Quiet, Hughes," without looking Roy raised his charcoal smudged hand and pointed in the direction where Maes was standing, "I'm trying to sleep…" He let his hand drop to dangle over the edge of the mattress.

Hughes chuckled to himself at the sight of his exhausted roommate sprawled out on top of his soft, down blanket. He looked so relaxed and cozy. Realizing that he was staring, Maes turned back his water basin and continued to shave.

After hearing Maes swish his razor in the water basin a few more times, Roy spoke up again, "Hey, Hughes."

"Hmm?" Finished, Maes placed his razor in a glass cup on his dresser.

"I saw Peter, your half-brother today. " There was a brief silence as Hughes stopped what he was doing.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No," Roy heard Maes exhale softly as he began to move again, "he didn't see me. I saw him going into the Alchemic Studies Building."

"What? Are you sure it was him? He would never set foot in a place like that."

"Yeah that's what I was thinking but—"

At that moment, when Roy had turned over to face his roommate, Maes, facing his own bed, dropped his towel and continued to get dressed. Roy's cheeks suddenly became hot as something swelled inside of him. Partly out of respect and partly in effort to hide his reaction, Mustang quickly rolled over. However, though he faced the blank wall now, he couldn't get the picture of Maes' bare, broad shoulders and muscular back out of his mind. It wasn't but a second before all the inappropriate thoughts he had had on the train when had first seen Maes flooded back to him.

"Y-you going somewhere?" Roy managed to spit out though he felt as if his mouth were full of cotton.

"Yeah, I know," Hughes said buttoning up his white shirt, "I'm a hypocrite after telling you to be safe and not to stay out too late. But Gracia is in town and I figure she and I should have a nice night out before the academy institutes a curfew on us due to the recent murders. We won't be out too late. Though, I may get back after you're asleep."

Roy tried not to jump and to act natural when Maes touched his shoulder, "Hey, while I was cleaning up I also came across this." The blushing alchemist turned his head slightly. Maes was holding out a thick, leather bound book. In contrast with the worn white cover, the pages of the closed book appeared to be dark around the edges, suggesting that the book had been thumbed through many a time, "I figured I should give it back to you now before I forget."

"That's not my book," Roy said trying to keep a calm, straight face. He could feel a fine sweat surface to his skin.

"Well it's definitely not mine," Hughes raised an eyebrow slightly, perplexed at why the young alchemist had suddenly become so serious, " Based on the gibberish written inside of it, I'm assuming it has got to be one of your alchemy texts. You guys write these things in code right? Even if, for some reason, it's not your's, you'd be the only one in this room able to crack it right? I mean…I thought that at least you may enjoy it…" Maes trailed off

At that moment, something melted inside Roy. _Hughes was giving him a gift…He wanted him to enjoy it…_

"Just leave it on my desk, Hughes," Roy finally said flatly, still unable to quell the strange energy that continued to fill him. He turned his head back to face the wall again and shut his eyes.

If only he could have gotten a hold of himself. Then he would have been able to thank Maes properly before he left.

_Several years later…Present day…_

An intense flash of lightning and crack of thunder startled Mustang from his sleep. "Damn rain…" He muttered to the dark air above him. How he hated the rain. It rendered him so…powerless.

Unable to filter out the steady noise of the storm outside, Roy slowly rose from his tangled sheets. At least this time _she_ had undone his bindings before she swiftly left. Mustang let out a mild groan. His body ached.

In the shower, the colonel tilted his head back and let out another noise as the hot water ran down his tired body. Before the storm had awakened him, he had been dreaming of Maes. However, like all waking minds, he was just too weak to hold onto any memory of the dream. All he was left with was the knowledge that, somehow, Maes had just been right there…right in front of him…

_God…what was wrong with him?_ Why was he trying so hard to remember the stupid dream? He couldn't even remember the subject of his last real conversation with Maes, let alone what Maes' last words were to him before-

The blood soaked telephone booth…Roy couldn't get the sight of it out of his mind! It hadn't been a dream that he had awoken from after all. So it had been a nightmare that he had tried so hard to remember…and now he wished he hadn't been so foolish.

* * *

**Additional notes:** So you may have noticed I was trying to focus more on the academy storyline this time. The major plot will definitely take place in Maes' and Roy's academy days. However, if it's not too confusing for you guys, I'm still going to throw in occasional related bits for wartime Roy and present day Roy as a means of foreshadowing and embellishment of certain deeper themes. Don't worry though, it'll all come together in the end.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! Please review. Thank you.


	7. Chapter 7: Scars

**Author's Notes:** After significant changes/development in story/plot, it has occurred to me that my intro line up in my story description has become out of date…so I've changed it now and I hope it fits better. Perhaps we can attract more readers to join us now? Maybe…? Here's to hoping…

Enjoy the chapter!

_ Previously in the last chapter…_

1) Present day Roy still dreams of Maes. However, sometimes these dreams are horrid nightmares; a result of the heavy guilt and longing in his heart.

2) Wartime Roy is finally writing a letter to Maes, despite the difficulty for him to do so.

3) Thanks to Maes, military academy Roy gets a low level laboratory position at the Department of Alchemic Studies. Upon returning to the dorm that night, Maes presents Roy with an old alchemy notebook that he had found while straightening up their room.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Scars**

_ Dear Maes,_

_Hope letter finds you well. I am alive and well. In wheelchair now. Hope to walk soon. Still hard to write and can't alchemy._

_Bests,  
Roy_

* * *

_(A year or so ago…at the dorm room…)_

Though it was well after midnight, the dim, yellow lamp on Mustang's desk was still on when Hughes returned to the room. Hughes chuckled softly to himself when he saw the young alchemist hunched over his desk, fast sleep on top of the weathered alchemy book he had given him. A dull pencil hung loosely in Roy's hand dangling over the side of the desk. As Maes drew nearer, the dark haired young man stirred slightly, scattering more of his notes to the floor. He mumbled something that Maes couldn't quite make out.

_"Mother…" Did he say?_

Quietly, Maes took the alchemist's blanket from his adjacent bed and gently draped it over his hunched shoulders.

Hughes' smile deepened as his eyes lingered on the sleeping man for a moment. However, as he studied Roy more closely, they began to sadden. Though the light was dim, there was an apparent, dark bruise on the left side of Mustang's chin. He must have gotten it earlier in the day before they had set off to meet Lt. General Knightly as there was no doubt that it was a new one.

Maes leaned back against the desk, beside Roy and crossed his arms. The worried look on his face became more severe as he watched his roommate begin to stir and moan more frequently.

Finally after some time, right as Maes was about to touch Roy to break him of the horrid nightmare, Mustang's eyes snapped open. A small gasp escaped his lips.

"Is that why you didn't wash the soot off your face when you first came in last night? You didn't want me to see it?" Hughes' voice cut through the midnight silence.

"See what," Roy lifted his head and rose from his desk. His blanket fell from his shoulders and back into the chair. "Hughes?"

"This," though Maes' hardly touched the bruise with his finger, Roy winced slightly. He had forgotten all about that. Immediately, he lowered his eyes, confirming his roommate's conclusion.

"Who was it? Was it Peter?"

Still looking at the floor, Roy shook his head.

"Then it was one of the others. Damn them…But they usually don't travel alone. There was more than one of them, wasn't there?"

Roy shut his eyes, a painful expression on his face. He lowered his head, further confirming Maes' statements.

Maes stood up to face Roy. His golden eyes were hardening. The stern look didn't suit him. For a brief moment, though Roy knew the look wasn't directed at him, he couldn't help but feel a bit of anxiety. The only other time he had seen such a look in Maes' golden eyes was when they were children and Maes was beating him.

"And this too?" Hughes touched a spot he had noticed on Roy's temple that his bangs usually concealed.

Mustang shook his head slightly, "That's an old scar."

At this, Maes' look softened slightly. "You have a lot of scars, don't you?" There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Which scars have I given you?"

"Hughes…" Roy glanced up at his roommate. Now it was Maes who lowered his head.

"Tell me please. I know I've given you several. So just tell me where they are. I have to know."

After a moment's hesitation, Roy took Maes' left hand and placed it along the bend of his right jaw. Softly, Maes ran his fingers up and down the length of Roy's jaw, tracing the thin scar there. Roy couldn't help but notice how warm his touch was.

Maes clenched his teeth. This was a scar that would forever mar Roy's body, reminding Roy of what Maes had done to him. Yet, Hughes couldn't remember how he even inflicted it upon the young alchemist. He _hated_ himself for not remembering.

Slowly, Maes' fingertips glided to Roy's neck and shoulder, pushing past his shirt collar and coming to rest on the smooth, burn scar under his shirt. Mustang brought his opposite hand up and placed it on top of Hughes', "Don't worry about that. That one is from the fire."

Seeing another patch of old burn marks on Roy's wrist, peeking out from under his sleeve, Hughes furrowed his brow. With his other hand he gently pulled down the shirt sleeve, revealing the full scar down the length of Roy's forearm. Maes looked as if he were about to cry, as his eyes came to settle on several bruises superimposed on the scar. These were defensive bruises that the young alchemist had gotten as he was trying to protect himself from blows. Roy probably had other bruises like this on his other forearm.

Removing the hand that had rested on Roy's neck, Hughes gave a small tug at Roy's collar and began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"What are you doing…Maes?"

Hughes didn't answer and Roy let him continue. His shirt slid smoothly off his shoulders and fell soundlessly at their feet. Mustang's skin tightened as the cool room air hit his bare back. Maes took a step away as if to study the delicate body before him. Larger patches of irregular burn scars wrapped around the young alchemist's ribs and torso. Like Roy's forearm, several dark bruises were layered on top of the smooth, scarred skin. _ The bastards had been kicking him…_.

After a moment, Hughes brought his open hand up to touch Mustang again. Softly, his fingertips ran down and traced across the scars on Roy's pale body. As Maes caressed the soft skin, he could feel tiny goose bumps form under his touch.

"Maes…" the battered young man's voice was but a whisper.

Roy's eyes widened when Hughes suddenly took him into his warm arms, fully embracing him. Maes' breath was hot against the nape of his neck. In his chest, he could feel Maes' heart beating, swelling against his. Despite some initial hesitation, Roy brought his arms up and returned the embrace. Eventually, he even closed his eyes.

* * *

_(Years later…at Central Command…) _

Out of habit, the colonel subconsciously rubbed the side of his right neck and the area behind his right jaw. Riza glanced over at the colonel, a slight worried look on her face.

Roy wasn't really paying attention to the departmental morning report meeting he was currently sitting in. He loathed meetings, especially morning report. Nothing ever seemed to change with the morning report. The current state of things was always the same as it was the day before which was always the same as the day before that. And so on.

"Second," Mustang said firmly in unison with a few other officers when the motion to adjourn was finally requested.

With that, the meeting began to disperse as people rose for their seats, collected their papers, and slowly filtered out of the room.

"Sir," Riza placed her stack of notes on top of Mustang's, covering up his intricate stick figures and doodles. She held the stack out.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mustang said distantly as he began to take the notes from her. When Hawkeye didn't let go of the papers immediately, he looked up to find that she was staring at the scabbed over rope burn on his exposed wrist. Her eyes were sad.

Did Riza know? Did she know he had other bloody marks like that about his other wrist and ankles? About the bruises and whip lashings on his back? Did Riza know about _that other woman_? Roy really should have never gone to see that woman last night.

As soon as Riza's eyes met his, Roy quickly tugged the stack of paper from her grip and pulled the cuff of his sleeve back down over his wrist

* * *

_(Several years ago…at the academy dorm room…)_

"Why do you do that?"

"Hmm?" Roy looked up from his alchemy texts. In front of him lay a recently fixed golden pocket watch.

"Before you 'alchemy'," Maes removed his watch from the small alchemy circle, "You mumbled something under your breath before you do it. I've never seen any other alchemists ever do that."

"Oh," Roy crumpled up the paper with the spent transmutation circle on it, "well it's an old practice that Professor Hawkeye taught me. Some believe that by saying a certain 'power' word or name, one's transmutations are rendered more potent. The more powerful the word, the more effective the alchemy. It's kind of like an incantation, if you want to think about it that way. The word is different for different alchemists though. The power of it depends on how important the word is to the casting alchemist. Sometimes, if the word is powerful enough, the alchemist doesn't even have to say it and need only to think it. I do it because it's the way I was taught and I think it helps me focus on my transmutation. Others believe such a practice is a load of 'hocus pocus' and hence it's fallen out of favor in recent years. "

"So," Hughes polished off the front of his watch before placing it back into his pocket, "What do you whisper?"

A slight color entered Mustang's cheeks, "I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

Maes laughed, "You alchemists are always so secretive. Makes me wonder how many things you're keeping from me."

Roy's cheeks became hot. Thankfully, Maes didn't notice how the color in them had deepened.

"Speaking of secrets," Hughes continued, "Have you been able to crack that alchemy book I found?"

The young alchemist sighed, "Partly, yes. I've only been able to decipher the first half of it so far. Unlike most alchemy notebooks written in code, this book contains several sections sealed with different, incomplete alchemy circles. In order to unlock each subsequent section, one need only to pencil in the missing portions.

"Basically, the circles in the book are rearranging the ink on the pages to form coherent words from the 'gibberish' you see inked on the non-transmutated pages. However, one wrong pencil mark at the wrong angle and the ink may rearrange to read something completely different than originally written. Plus, as you know, the mechanics of specific transmutation circles like these often only makes full sense to the alchemist who authors them. Only an alchemist with a good idea of author's intent may properly fill in the omitted parts of author's circles. Not to mention that it appears that as one progresses through this book, the circles become harder to solve…"

"Hmm," Hughes made the noise in his throat.

"It's as if whoever wrote this book is testing anyone who dare attempt to understand his work, " Roy went on, "If an alchemist is able to solve these circles and complete the book, then it's almost like he has deemed the reader worthy enough to have all the secrets of the text fully revealed to him/her. It's actually quite an ingenious design."

"So you could only get halfway through, then?"

"So far. But there is one major flaw of this book. The sections are written in such a way to teach the reader certain alchemy techniques. Theoretically, I am given the tools to unlock the next section's alchemy circle with what I've read in the previous sections. It'll take time, but I think I can eventually decipher the entire book."

"Nice! I knew you would be the one to be able to crack the book."

"Well don't congratulate me, yet. I haven't finished unlocking it. It's actually a weird book, Hughes. It's not your ordinary alchemy notebook…"

"How so?"

"Most of it is about alchemy. But some of the parts I've read sound like they're part of someone's diary or memoirs. It's odd because it's as if these sections are written to address a particular reader…and the way that the alchemy is presented so sequentially…like a teaching manual or instructions… it makes me think that this wasn't just any alchemy notebook, but an alchemist's final presentation of his work …"

"Huh. Weird."

"Tell me about it," Roy sighed and massaged his temples with his fingertips.

"Sounds like you need a break from alchemy today, then. Which works out," Maes patted his roommate on the shoulder, "Today we're going to teach you how to fight."

There was a momentary pause before Roy finally exclaimed, "We're going to what?"

_ (Outside in a nearby field…)_

"Can you please tell me why we're doing this, Hughes?" Roy dragged his feet, "The military is already teaching us how to fight. Isn't combat class enough?"

"That so-called 'combative tactics' class is a bunch of crap," Maes retorted over his shoulder as he continued to lead Roy further out into a field of golden grass, "Trust me. The stuff they teach us there would never hold up in an actual hand-to-hand fight. It's because modern warfare is shifting to emphasize techniques of long range and involve the use of things like guns, airplanes, and bombs."

Finally after a few more steps, Maes stopped and turned around, "But that's beside the point. I'm going to teach you how to really fight or least how they fight on the street So that the next time Peter or one of his cronies or even if that serial killer, slasher tries to lay a hand on you, you can defend yourself or at least buy yourself enough time and distance so you can run." Maes removed the outer jacket to his uniform and rolled up his sleeves.

"Ok…" Roy swallowed hard and also removed his outer jacket.

"Alright, come at me," Maes gestured towards himself with both his hands.

"What? Now?" Roy raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you going to teach me something first?"

"No. No. I want to see what you got, first. We can go from there," Maes said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "Come on. Try and hit me. Trust me. You're not going to hurt me."

"Uh…Ok," Roy brought his fists up and took the basic fighter's stance the military had taught all its cadets. Silence fell across the meadow as the two began to circle each other. It wasn't but a second later when finally, Roy made his first move. Shifting his weight to one side as if to initiate a punch, Roy pulled back and instead kicked Hughes square in the shin.

"OW!" Hughes dropped his stance and grabbed his shin and began to rub it rapidly, "What the hell was that?" He was using that high pitched voice again.

"Ah geez, I'm sorry, Hughes," Roy gestured apologetically, "But you said to try to hit you."

"Yeah," Maes sat down on a patch of grass, "I said to try and _hit_ me, NOT fake me out and _kick_ me."

"And there's a difference?"

"YES, there's a difference! We're not even getting into kicking right now! That comes later. Right now we're just covering the basics. Things like _hitting_ and punching." Another awkward silence settled between the two as Maes continued to rub his shin.

"Ok," Finally, after a moment, Hughes brushed himself off, "let's try this again. And this time, you're going to try to _punch_ me. When you do, I want you to make sure that your fist is aligned with the shaft of your arm. Your force will be more direct and you'll get more power that way."

_(A few hours later...) _

"Good," Maes smiled as Roy dodged his open handed jabs, "you're starting to get it now. The key is to make sure they never land a blow. Once they get a hold of you, it's over. They'll gang up on you if you fall and you won't be able to get away."

Suddenly, Hughes shifted to the side, avoiding Roy's swift fist. Roy smiled back at his roommate, fully aware that he had nearly struck Hughes this time. Roy's heart was beating so fast.

With a wink, the golden eyed cadet pushed Roy back with both hands, causing the young alchemist to stumble back a few steps. When Roy looked up again, Hughes was on him, attempting to strike him with more open handed jabs. That's when Roy saw the opening.

_ Pah!_ Maes fell back, clutching his right jaw.

"Oh, man. I'm sorry, Hughes. Are you alright," Roy dropped his stance and knelt, "I didn't think I'd actually—" Roy stopped midsentence when he saw that Maes was smiling widely.

"This is the part where you run," Hughes laughed, "If you knock a guy down you should be able to get away."

"Huh?"

"I said RUN, you idiot!"

Finally understanding, Roy jumped to his feet and set off at a sprint. Swiftly, he pushed past thickets of tall, yellow maiden grass. However, it wasn't long before Maes was on his heels.

"You better not let me catch you," Roy heard Maes giggle behind him, "because once I get my hands on you…" The young alchemist didn't catch the rest of Hughes' sentence as he increased his speed and pulled away.

As the chase continued, Mustang couldn't help but notice a change in the air. It had grown considerably thicker and smelled sourly of salt. The earth beneath Roy's feet also felt looser and less coarse. This caused him to lose a bit of his footing, thus further narrowing the gap between him and Maes.

Suddenly, Mustang came to a halt. There was no where left to run. They had reached the edge of the bay that was adjacent to the academy. No sooner had Roy stopped running, did Maes tackle him to the sandy ground, "Gotcha."

Though he was out of breath, Roy let out a boyish laugh as he tried to wriggle free from Maes' firm hold, "Let go!"

Finally, as if on a coordinated switch, the two young cadets suddenly relaxed. For quite some time, they laid on the sand, still entangled in each other and breathing heavily as they caught their breaths.

Quietly, the bay water lapped against the shore as the sun began to sink in the distance. One by one, pinpoints of light in the city across the bay flicked on.

_ Maes …you're so warm…and you smell so…good…_ The thoughts were sudden and caused Roy to sit up quickly. He pushed away from Hughes.

"We should probably get back," Mustang said flatly, brushing himself off.

"Yeah," Hughes agreed, though he sounded somewhat distant. It was as if he had been lost in thought.

* * *

**Additional notes: ** Believe it or not, my original story idea for this fic was to center around wartime Roy's letters to Maes. Obviously the fic has evolved significantly to involve more plot and focuses more on Maes/Roy academy days (my favorite time period for the pairing). However, at the beginning of this chapter I tried to evoke some of that original idea and write a short letter. Not sure how well that worked. It was hard to remember that Roy is still in rehabilitation and can't write so well.

Thank you again to those of you who left me comments in the last chapter! It really helped! If it weren't for you guys and your feedback/encouragement, I doubt I would have been able to get this chapter out so quickly.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think and review!


	8. Chapter 8: Sacrifice

**Author's Notes:** Apologies x 1000 for not updating for a long time. A lot of things in life decided to come up all at once and only now have they settled down closer to normal. But that doesn't mean I haven't forgotten about this fic. I've been thinking about it constantly and have reworked some of the plot points and pacing of the next few chapters so that it will hopefully flow better.

Either way hopefully I'll be able to update sooner and more regularly now that things settling back down again. Thank you and welcome to new readers who have recently added this story to their alerts. It's always good to know people are reading. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review because you know I love hearing from you guys!

_ Previously, in the last chapter…_

1) Present day Roy is still engaging in an abusive relationship with a mysterious woman. Riza is beginning to notice signs of his after work "activities."

2) Wartime Roy wrote his first letter to Maes.

2) Military academy Roy spends time with Hughes. After finding that Roy has received new injuries from Peter's gang, Hughes teaches Roy how to fight. In the meantime, Roy is slowly deciphering the alchemic notebook that Hughes had given to him earlier.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Sacrifice**

_ Dear Maes,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Forgive me for not keeping in touch for so long. I've been injured and now I have the time to write. I'm jealous of the other soldiers here because they have family to write and I…all I have is..._

_I can't say where I am right now but I can say that I am well. They say I am recovering faster than expected. I'll explain later once I get home. But I don't know when that will be. The other soldiers warn me that the faster I heal the sooner the docs will send me back out to the desert again. But I'm not afraid of going out there. You and I have been through worse. But I wouldn't mind going to bay beach again like we used to at the academy. What I would give to go back there…_

_Damn it. I wish I could talk to you now. But I guess I'll just have to wait until they send me back home to hear from you. It'll give me something to look forward to…_

_Best regards,_

_Roy_

_ (A year or so ago…back in the academy dorm room…) _

"Here, I want you to have this," Maes placed a small push dagger on top of the open book in front of Roy.

As if mesmerized by the silver dagger's fine craftsmanship, Mustang ran his fingers over the flat side of the blade. The letters "MH" had been etched in thin letters at the hilt.

Hughes crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the desk, "I know I've only taught you how to survive a fist fight, so far, but this is for the times when some bastard decides to pull a weapon on you. Now you don't have to exactly use it. I don't want you hurting yourself. Just in those sticky situations pull it out to look scary so the thug will stay back long enough so you can hopefully get out of there."

Still admiring the blade, Roy turned the blade over once in his hand and nodded, "Thanks, Hughes, but I can't take this from you."

"Ah don't worry about it," Hughes shrugged, "I have several others. But don't think that means you can go throwing that around and losing it now."

"Got it," Roy chuckled, "I'll be sure to keep it with me at all times."

* * *

_(Some months later...at the Academy...)_

_Bang!_ Luckily Roy had ducked right before the small explosion so that he didn't get a face full of soot this time. "Yes! It works," Roy rejoiced quietly to himself as he stood back up and dusted his apron off. It was then that he realized that all the alchemy discussion in the classroom had come to a halt and that all the advanced alchemy students were staring at him. Even Lt. General Knightly who was at the front of the room, had stopped in mid lecture.

Now that Roy had been working for Doctor Knightly for some time, he had been allowed the privilege to work "quietly" in the back of the laboratory even during the day while class was in session.

"Um" Roy's smile melted away as he bowed, "Sorry for the disruption, Sir."

Though everyone turned their attention back to their own lab benches, Roy knew that their whispers and hushed discussions were no longer about their own experiments.

_"That guy..." "What is he doing here?" "Did you see?" "…strange…" "It isn't right" "… doesn't belong" "freak…" "scary…"_

With every harsh glance shot his way, the more Roy wished he could simply fade into nothingness.

"Roy," Lt. General Knightly called out to him after class dismissal, "Walk with me. I would like to talk with you in my office."

Mustang swallowed hard. Hopefully the Lt General wasn't thinking about revoking his daytime privileges already. With a nod, the future flame alchemist quickly finished cleaning his lab bench, closed the white, leather alchemy book Maes had given him, and followed the older gentleman out of the room. As they progressed down the hall, the young cadet gazed out the window, trying to settle his nerves.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly. Down below in front of the Alchemic Sciences Building, rows and rows of young cadets stood at attention in full uniform. A heavily decorated General stood on a platform in front of them, gesturing widely and firmly as he gave what Roy imagined was an inspiring speech.

"Hmpf," Knightly scoffed. He too was gazing out the window as they walked, "Poor little lambs. They haven't even graduated yet and already they're pushing them out to war. They're not ready." The Lt. General stopped walking momentarily, "The war is bad and the Fuhrer is so desperate to the point that he's instituted this 'accelerated graduation' lottery system. It's more like an internal draft if you ask me," he glanced back at Mustang and started walking again, "Mark my words, Roy. It won't be long until the Fuhrer starts deploying the alchemists as well."

"But, Sir," Roy said just as they reached the Lt. General's office, "aren't alchemists and alchemy students exempt from deployment?"

"For now," the white haired gentlemen shut the door behind them, "but unfortunately, the Fuhrer and his generals don't see alchemy as a way to better mankind, like we do. To them, we're nothing but a potential weapon. I don't disagree with idea that if we were sent to war, we would be able to end the bloodshed…but…" the older man pursed his lips and trailed off.

After a moment, the Lt. General spoke again, "Roy, the reason why I wanted to talk to you is…"

"Oh," Roy interjected, "about class today, Sir. I'm sorry for being so disruptive. I was attempting to produce delayed reaction alchemy circles and accidentally added the sulfur a bit too fast and—"

"Hahaha," Lt. General Knightly interrupted the young cadet with a gentle laugh, "No, Roy. That's not why I called you here. Quite the contrary actually," He took a step towards Mustang and pulled out a red handkerchief from his white suit pocket, "Here, you've got some soot on your chin."

When the smooth silk touched his face, the young cadet's eyes widened. He looked up at his superior officer who was taller than he. His heart raced as a strange, uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach.

"If only," Knightly said softly as he gently cradled Roy's jaw and rubbed his cheek with the red silk, "If only the advanced alchemy students actually shared your enthusiasm." The older man smiled.

"Join me Roy," Knightly said more firmly as his hand continued to linger along Roy's jaw line from behind the thin, silk cloth. It smelled heavily of sweet cologne.

Roy swallowed so hard that it was audible.

Knightly smirked at the boy's reaction. After another moment he stepped back, placing the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket.

"Join me in my research, Roy," the Lt. General pushed up his glasses and repeated himself, "Since I am involved in research for the military, I can't exactly tell you the nature of my studies until you agree to join my lab as an assistant. However, I know that we definitely could use your alchemic talents."

"Sir…I don't know if I can at the moment," Roy hesitated, "The State Alchemy Exam is…"

"I know. You're taking it at the end of the month, aren't you?"

Roy nodded once.

A gentle smile spread across Knightly's face as he nodded as well, "I understand. With the State Exam coming up, more on your plate is the last thing you need."

Knightly folded his hands neatly behind him and paced around to the other side of his desk, "But in order to make State Alchemist, you will need to be able to impress the Alchemy Review Committee, Roy. You will need something more than delayed reaction alchemy circles. And…if you work for me, you will have my entire research lab at your disposal. With my resources, Roy I can guarantee that you will pass the State Exam without question." The thin smile on the Lt. General's face widened, "I am, after all, on the Alchemy Review Committee."

Roy's mouth suddenly dried out. _That's right._ Mustang had nearly forgotten. Lt. General Knightly would be on the board of reviewers evaluating him during the State Exam. _ Was the Lt. General subtly threatening not to pass him if he refused to be his research assistant? _

"Imagine, Roy," Knightly continued, "with your help, we can prove to the Fuhrer that we Alchemists aren't just weapons to be used and thrown away. You and I both know that Alchemy is much more powerful than that. We not only have the ability to end the war at hand, but through our research, we are capable of developing something far greater… perhaps something that can end all wars."

The young alchemist's eyes grew wider. _ Was it fear that was building up inside of him, now? _ A knot turned in his stomach. Something didn't feel right about all this.

"Heh," the Lt. General snickered, "I'm sorry if I'm scaring you with my excitement. I can get a little carried away at times but I'm sure you can understand how that can be. It's why I strongly encourage you to join me. Brethold made you a good alchemist Roy, but I can make you the best."

An awkward silence settled across the room.

"But," the Lt. General placed a firm hand down on Roy's shoulder, "I know this all must be a lot of information to take in. So I understand if you need some time to consider my offer."

"Thank you, Sir," Roy gulped, trying to settle the uneasiness in his stomach. He bowed slightly before turning to leave.

"One last thing, Roy, before you go," Knightly had his back to the young cadet now and gazed out his office window as he spoke, "I probably shouldn't be telling you this…but as you're aware, all non-alchemy cadets are eligible to be drafted into the Fuhrer's 'accelerated graduation lottery.' And well…you are technically a non-alchemy cadet and…your name has come up, Roy."

"What?" The young alchemist gasped.

"Because you never sat for the Alchemy Placement Exam, you're officially just a regular, non-alchemy cadet. Your name was drawn in the lottery earlier this week and you were to be deployed at the beginning of next month. However," the older gentleman turned to face Roy again. His angel white hair shone brightly in the intense sunlight coming from outside, "Given my position in the Academy and Military, I was able to convince the lottery committee to draw another name, instead of your's this time."

Roy cast his eyes to the ground, "Another cadet is being sent out in my place?" A queasy feeling tugged at his heart. _ This was wrong. _

Knightly laughed, "A simple 'Thank you' would do, Roy. But, this time, yes. Another cadet is being deployed instead of you. However, if your name is drawn again in subsequent drafts, I'm afraid there would be nothing I could do. Unless you work for me, I cannot continue to protect you. Please keep that in mind as you think about what we have discussed here."

_ So he was threatening Roy after all._

"Yes, Sir," Roy said quietly as he turned to leave again, "And Sir?"

"Yes?"

"If you don't mind my asking, who is the cadet being deployed in my place?"

"Don't worry about that too much, Roy. You can serve your country as much if not more from the lab than on the battlefield. Just think about my offer."

* * *

Like always, it was dark by the time Roy had finished his work at the Alchemic Studies Building. The streets were practically empty. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, there had been one hundred cadets standing in ranks here. _There had been a hundred… and Roy was supposed to be one of them…_

Mustang's heart ached. The stone that had sunk in his heart while he was in Lt. General Knightly's office continued to grow and weigh heavily in his chest. The young cadet shivered and pulled his thick military coat more tightly about himself.

_Why was he worrying about this so much?_ Had he been drafted, he would have been automatically withdrawn from the State Alchemy Exam even if it occurred before his deployment. After all, Alchemists were exempt from deployment and the military couldn't risk having draft soldiers duck out of duty by registering for the Exam.

_ Perhaps he should be thankful for all that Lt. General Knightly was doing for him…perhaps he should accept his offer…He'd make State Alchemist for sure if he did. So why was he so hesitant?_

* * *

_ (At the dorm room...)_

_We've done it,_ The weathered alchemy book read. Roy furrowed his brow. The contents of the book had become very strange indeed. With each page, the book had grown into more of a diary, discussing philosophical hypotheses and alchemic theory. The writer seemed specifically obsessed with the legendary "Philosopher's Stone" and strange beings called Homunculi.

The young alchemist turned the well worn page and continued to read.

_We've done it! The Philosopher's Stone is no longer a myth. Equivalent Exchange is no longer a law. We may truly turn coal into gold, make perfect from the imperfect, and bring life from death. It is truly incredible. What was once believed to be impossible, turns out to be quite simple. One need only the following elements and- _

Roy blinked, confused. He ran his finger down the thin, ragged crease in the book. The next several pages had been torn out. At this point, Mustang flipped passed several more pages.

_ "…tomorrow we begin trials with human candidates…"_ read another line on one of the later pages.

To the eager alchemist's dismay, several other sections in the final fourth of the book had also been ripped out. A majority of the remaining pages near the end of the book also appeared to have suffered severe water damage, rendering them unreadable.

Mustang ran his fingertip over the jagged, torn edges of the missing pages again. _What he would have given to have been able to see those Philosopher Stone pages…_

Just at that moment, before Roy could wonder what the writer had meant by "trials with human candidates," the phone rang. The young cadet jumped.

"Hello?" Roy said, "Hughes is that you? Where are you? I can barely hear you." Roy covered his opposite ear, trying to hear Maes' voice over the loud jazz music playing on the other end, "You want me to meet you where?"

_ (At a local jazz club in uptown…)_

"Rick's," read the flickering neon sign outside the club. Roy skipped over several puddles in the street, left from a recent afternoon shower.

Inside, the club was crowded and abuzz with conversation and smooth jazz music. A fine blonde in a white sequenced dress, backed up by a big band and a piano, sang sweetly as Roy pushed his way in the door. The young alchemist blinked several times, taking the scene in steadily as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Suddenly, to the right of the stage there was an uproar. "Damn you Hughes!" Mustang heard someone shout as he ran towards the struggle.

"Hey! Hey! Break it up! Back off!"

By the time Roy got there, Maes was already on the ground, holding his left jaw while two or three people held Peter back. It was hard to tell in the mild light, but Roy could have sworn that Peter's pale blue eyes, though angry were full of tears. "Fuck you," he spat at Hughes.

"I said back off!" The owner of the club shouted back as he grappled with Peter, "Don, get this kid out of my club!"

"Hughes," Roy knelt down and offered a hand, "What was that all about? You alright?"

Maes didn't answer and instead kept his head down as he took Roy's hand. "He really never was good with goodbyes," Hughes mumbled.

"Hughes…" Mustang whispered, picking up on the somber tone of his best friend's.

"I hate you!" Peter shouted once more right before the club's bouncers showed him the exit.

"Come on," Roy tugged at Maes' jacket sleeve, "Let's get out of here."

"Nah," the taller man shrugged, "Let's have another drink." He said almost distantly. After a moment he finally turned to Roy and tried to force a smile.

"But I don't drink."

"Ah let a drunk guy buy his good, faithful roommate drink, will ya?"

Two hours and some stiff drinks later, the two young cadets found themselves out on the back balcony of the club.

"Jesus, it's cold out here," Mustang shivered, "Why are we out here, Hughes? No one else is."

Roy pulled his coat in closer to his body and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the brighter lamp lighting outside. It had been so dark in the club, that Roy hadn't realized that Maes was actually dressed in his formal occasion military uniform. ("Class A's" the cadets called them.) Roy felt his cheeks grow hotter as his eyes lingered over the fine embroidery and sharp angles of Hughes' crisp uniform. How the jacket hugged his hips and accented his thin waist and broad shoulders.

"You just looked like you needed some fresh air," Maes chuckled when he glanced over at Roy, "Look at you. Your cheeks are all flushed. Just like Peter's when he used to…cry all the time…" The distant, solemn look washed over Maes' face again as he turned to look out over the balcony.

"We're actually half brothers, you know," Hughes continued, "When I was just a boy, my father actually left my mom and me for a while."

"Hughes…" Roy's eyes saddened.

"And just when I had finally given up on him coming back," Maes continued to talk towards the street view below them, "when I was finally even glad that he was gone…he came back…holding this pale haired kid's hand and telling me that I needed to take care of that boy now…I had to promise…and now…" Hughes paused to polish off the clear drink in his hand. He winced as the bitter alcohol went down, "Son of a bitch…I'm not going to be around anymore to…" He leaned against the thin, iron railing and hung his head.

"Hughes," Roy spoke slowly, "what do you mean that you're not going to be around _anymore?_" The uneasiness that had welled up in his stomach earlier had returned instantly. _Peter had been mad at Hughes earlier because-_

"Hughes," Roy repeated after his roommate didn't answer, "I've been meaning to ask you…why are you wearing your Class A's in the middle of the night at a bar?"

"I didn't have time to change," Hughes spoke, his gaze still fixed on something below them, "After the ceremony that is…"

The sight of the perfect ranks and rows of soldiers standing at attention at the deployment ceremony re-entered his mind.

_ "I was able to convince the lottery committee to draw another name, instead of your's this time …Another cadet is being deployed instead of you."_ Dr. Knightly's words from earlier echoed in the young alchemist's ears.

"When, Hughes," Roy said softly, his heart aching again, "When do you depart?"

"I don't have much time actually. We ship out at the beginning of next month."

* * *

_ (Present day…)_

It was dark again when the woman forced him into his room.

"Wait," Roy said breathlessly. Mustang grabbed his collar and began to meticulously undo the buttons. He couldn't bear the thought of the Riza's button being torn from his uniform after she had taken so much care to reattach it the other day, "I can-"

The woman didn't wait. She pushed his hands away and proceeded to strip him violently as she always did. Roy closed his fist around the edge of his left collar, so that when she tore the jacket from him, the button would be gently plucked from the fabric and remain in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Riza," Mustang's mind whispered repeatedly as he heard the buttons rained across the floor.

The flushed red colonel looked away and shut his eyes when the woman went to bind his hands. He clenched the navy blue, pebble of a button in his palm tightly hoping that the woman wouldn't notice it. Roy bit his tongue as she then proceeded to crack a whip against him.

Roy squeezed the small, round button in his fist over and over again.

* * *

** Additional notes:** I hope you enjoyed that chapter and that the tone wasn't too different than before. Again, I'm sorry for taking so long to update this fic. I think I should have more time now though. So hopefully I'll be able to update sooner. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me despite the long wait. Please let me know what you think and review! I love hearing from you guys!


	9. Chapter 9: Casualties

**Author's Notes:**I suppose I spoke too soon in the last entry. I had hoped to update more regularly since the last chapter but this one took a little longer than expected. In a poor attempt to ask for forgiveness for not being very regular with the updates, this next chapter is a little spicy ~_^ ! So, I hope you enjoy it.

_ Previously, in the last chapter…_

1) Present day Roy is still engaging in an abusive relationship with a mysterious woman.

2) Wartime Roy is slowly recovering and regaining control over his fine motor skills. He continues to write Maes.

3) Military academy Roy is offered a position to work in Lt. General Knightly's lab but at what cost? Uncertain of whether or not he should take the offer, Roy finds out that Maes is to be deployed to Ishval at the beginning of next month.

**Chapter 9: Casualties**

By the time the two cadets left Rick's night club it was raining heavily again. It came down around them in thick, steady sheets. _How Roy hated the rain…_

"Damn…you're rrr- right, Rrroy. It is cold out here…" Hughes slurred as they reached their dormitory entrance. Mustang could feel his roommate shivering against him.

Roy only moaned as he readjusted Maes' arm around him and fumbled around for his keys with his free hand. The taller man certainly wasn't the lighter of the two. _Why did Hughes have to drink so much?_

"Come on, Hughes," inside, the young alchemist pulled him into their room.

The taller man stumbled to his bed and collapsed on it. Still on top of the covers, his body immediately curled up, shaking almost violently.

"Ah, Hughes. You're all sopping wet," Mustang threw a fluffy, dry towel at Maes, "Let's get dry first." Roy started to undo his own shirt.

"…so tired…so cold…" was all Roy could hear Maes say from under the towel.

Without further hesitation, Mustang stopped drying himself, lifted the towel off of Maes, and removed his thick glasses from the bridge of his nose. Roy then proceeded to gently rub Maes' head with the soft towel. After drying the taller man's hair and neck as best he could, Roy carefully unbuttoned Hughes' outer jacket and then his damp white shirt.

Only when he first caught sight of Maes' firm, muscular chest and well-toned abdomen, did Mustang realize what his trembling hands were doing. He stopped and pulled them away abruptly, but by then it was too late. Maes' sharp, golden eyes were open and they were staring at him. _God, without his glasses, they were…_

Roy's cheeks grew hot, "…Hughes…I—"

Before the young alchemist could back away and apologize, Maes grabbed the ends of the towel still around Mustang's shoulders and pulled him in. Roy's heart raced as he felt Maes' cool skin press against his.

The kiss was gentle with chaste pressure. Roy's heart skipped a beat as he felt a soft tongue slip into his mouth. For a brief instant, Mustang's inhibitions melted. As Maes began to pull away, Roy jumped to close the gap between their lips again, trying desperately to return the kiss with equal gentleness, despite his internal hunger. As if surprised by the great fervor in Roy's response, Maes nipped the bottom of Roy's soft, pink lip before licking it. A small taste of iron entered the young Mustang's mouth.

"Make me see," Hughes whispered in between kisses and nips down the scarred side of Roy's neck, "show me your..." In one fluid motion, he pushed Mustang's jacket and shirt off his smooth shoulders. Before Mustang knew it, Hughes had him down flat against the bed sheets. Roy closed his eyes as he felt Maes' hands descend down his body, gently stroking each smooth scar. Hughes' hands were strong.

"Maes…" A small gasp escaped Roy's lips when Hughes touched him. His skin began to tingle all over. It was so sensitive.

When the golden-eyed man took Roy in his soft, warm mouth, Mustang threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. The young alchemist's breath quickened as all the intense and impure feelings he had been trying to suppress inside himself suddenly boiled over. He broke out in a fine sweat as his body contracted uncontrollably. Violently, he twisted the thin white sheets in his tight fists.

After he had finished, Maes rose back into Roy's field of view. His dark, glistening, wet bangs had fallen into his magnificent eyes and he was smiling at Roy. Gently, he kissed Roy on the lips again as he removed his own damp clothing.

At the golden eyed man's command, the young Mustang turned over onto his stomach. His heart skipped a beat when Hughes proceeded to lick the back of his neck. Maes' hands continued to linger across Roy's skin, tracing down the length of his thin spine.

"Look at you…you're cheeks are all flushed, again," Hughes whispered hotly into Mustang's ear.

Roy swallowed hard. He could feel Maes' strong, firm body against his back.

When, Maes thrust into him, Roy awoke from the dream with a gasp, "Maes!" Breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath, Roy sat up. He glanced across the room, over at Maes who was fast asleep in his own bed. Thankfully he hadn't heard Roy shout his name. How embarrassing it would have been if he had.

_ So it all had been another dream..._ All that had happened since he had brought Hughes back to the dorm room had been products of his imagination…_GOD he was so fucked up. Why did he keep having dreams about Maes like this?_

As his breathing and heart rate slowed back down to normal, Roy remembered now what really had happened. After finding out about Maes deployment, he had a few more drinks with him before bringing him back to the dorm room. It had been raining. Mustang tried to dry himself and Maes as best he could with some towels but then…

Mustang squeezed his eyes shut. His head throbbed and the memories of the night were hazy and intermixed with the visions of the dream. He really shouldn't have drank that much.

_ Let's see…so…what happened was…_Roy tried to dry himself and Maes with towels but eventually, like his roommate, he ended up passing out in his own bed. Alone. Nothing more had happened.

Roy fingered his lips. They were tingling. His tongue ran over a small nick just on the inside of them and there was a faint taste of iron lingering in his mouth.

* * *

_(Less than a year later…)_

_Dear Maes,_

_Each day I am getting better. I can get around on crutches now and am able to hobble around the hospital grounds._

_What's even more, I've finally done it! I can perform alchemy again!_

_Earlier today, a young Ishvalian boy, whose mother is being treated here at the hospital, fell and broke the wooden airplane he was carrying into several pieces. I saw it happen on my walk and without thinking I traced out a transmutation circle around it in the sand…and it worked! In a flash, the plane was whole again, its propeller spinning in the light wind. When I went to hand it back to the boy, his father wouldn't allow him to even touch it. I had tainted it. Immediately the child began to cry at the sight of me standing over him. His father gathered him up and carried him away quickly. I stood there holding the airplane with its spinning propeller for a while before the nurses guided me back inside._

_I am quickly learning that Alchemy can't fix everything, Maes. To survive in this world, we all need each other._

_-Roy_

* * *

_(Less than a year earlier…at the Academy Post Office the day after the night at the club…)_

Deep in thought, the young fire alchemist bit his lip, massaging and widening the small nick on the inside of it. Quickly his eyes scanned over the stark, white forms once more. He wasn't checking for completeness so much as he was slightly hesitant to turn them in. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the thin black loops of his scribbled signature at the end of the last page. He stood there for a prolonged moment, trying to figure out why even the shine of the dark ink reminded him of the smooth, glossy hair of—

"Maes Hughes," the name escaped Roy's lips, hardly audible, "Why, Maes?" _Why did it have to be him that Roy dreamed about? _

Finally, when the bitter taste of iron began to enter his mouth, he hurriedly, almost with an air of frustration, folded the forms twice and slipped them neatly into an envelope addressed to General Bradley. He dropped it into the mailbox and quickly left the office without looking back even once.

* * *

Outside, though it was technically the daytime, the sky was dark with ominous clouds. The air was thick and smelled like rain as another storm brewed overhead.

Perhaps to get his mind off of the flurry of mixed feelings and thoughts, the young alchemist flipped through the small stack of mail the postmaster had given to him at the office.

So lost in thought was the young alchemist that he hardly noticed that he was walking straight into a dim, narrow alley.

As usual, most of the mail was for Hughes from Gracia. Roy subconsciously rolled his eyes. It looked as if she wrote him at least every other day. It was wartime so the mail was slow and often several letters would arrive at once and out of order.

When Roy reached the final letter, he stopped in his tracks. It was addressed to him! Quickly, in the middle of the street, the young alchemist tore open the letter. Right away, from the neat, thin cursive letters, Roy knew it was from Riza.

Tears immediately entered his eyes and a pain welled up in his chest as he read the note.

_Dear Roy,_

_Father is in great pain and his condition continues to worsen. The doctors do not suspect that he has much longer. He is requesting for you to be at his bedside. He would like to tell you something that he cannot seem to bare to tell anyone else (not even me). Please come quick…_

At that point, the tearful young man nearly dropped the mail.

The last words the Professor had uttered to him were the brutal, angry ones that he had said as he threw Roy out before he left for the Academy. The old man was stubborn and Roy had assumed that he would never hear from him again. But now…

"Now what is a pretty faggot like you doing in a dark place like this?" Peter's smooth voice sent a cold shiver down Roy's spine. The future flame alchemist's breath froze.

Looking up, he suddenly realized that he was actually standing in the darkest portion of the alleyway, where the street light had gone out.

As Roy turned around, the knot that had been developing in the pit of his stomach twisted. One by one, Peter's gang gathered around them. Mustang's heart pounded.

"I don't want any trouble, Peter," the young alchemist managed to say as he quickly tucked the mail into his messenger bag.

"You never do. But it's been a while since you and I last met," the platinum blond smiled wolfishly and started walking towards Roy, "and we might as well make up for lost time."

Without further warning, Peter lunged at Mustang. As if acting on instinct, Roy swiftly shifted his weight to one side, narrowly dodging Peter's fist. Then as if his body were moving on its own, Roy felt his legs automatically shift him back to the other side of Peter. Peter never saw his closed fist coming. The young alchemist heard a small crunch when his knuckles met the bully's face.

"Fuck!" The blonde fell to the ground clutching nose, blood running in between his fingers, "The faggot broke my nose!" He let out an angry wail.

For a moment Roy stood there, eyes wide and dumbfounded. He quickly searched the faces of the rest of Peter's gang who only stared back at him, equally shocked.

_ Run, you idiot!_Maes' words screamed in Roy's mind, snapping him out of his astonishment.

"Get him! Get him!" Roy heard Peter shout behind him as he shoved past several still bewildered gang members and booked it out of the alley.

Slowly, a giddy smile crept across Mustang's lips as he sprinted down the street. Even though he could see Peter's goons gaining on him every time he glanced back, the smile continued to grow.

Making a sharp right, Roy suddenly found himself in the middle of a crowded market. "Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me," the young cadet mumbled as he picked his way through the crowd. Thinking fast, the young alchemist slipped behind a wagon full of produce in order to catch his breath. Peeking out from behind the cart, he could see Peter's gang members closing in on him. Without further thought, Roy produced a piece of white chalk from his pocket.

"Where'd he go?" Peter's cronies began to draw near to Roy's location. "Come on out you fucking alchemist. There's no use hiding, you cowa—!"

"AHH!" Suddenly, in a flash of light and dust, a nine foot deep ditch appeared under 4 of them, dropping them immediately.

Roy could hardly contain himself as he skipped over the ditch full of shouting cadets and sprinted further down the street. Catching sight of several other gang members closing in on him, the young alchemist swiftly grabbed a small stack of papers from his satchel. He had been hoping to save these for later use and testing in the lab but he couldn't let Peter get a hold of him. He just had to make it to the dormitory!

With a quick flick of his wrist, Roy distributed the thin slips of paper, alternating back and forth between his right and left as he made his way down the cobbled street. Just like he had designed them, the papers stuck flat against the walls and barrels lining his course through the market.

"One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand…" Roy counted to himself, "…10 one-thousand."

_Bang! Pop! Bang! Poof!_

"Ahh!" Just as some of the boys chasing the alchemist were gaining on him, there was a quick succession of small flashes and bangs as dust from the walls and debris from market barrels popped out into the middle of the street. When the dust cleared, only a few of the hooligans remained on Roy's heels.

"Whoo!" The young alchemist let out a small laugh. The delayed alchemy circles had worked just as he had calculated!

Roy quickly rounded a corner with his head still turned. _Wham!_Immediately the young cadet ran square into someone's muscular chest. The blow had knocked him back and onto the ground.

The alchemist's eyes grew large and fearful at the sheer size of the man he had run into. God he hoped this man wasn't one of Peter's guys.

"Why excuse me, my fellow cadet," the behemoth of a man bellowed, "I did not see you there." The man extended his hand.

"Thanks," Roy brushed himself off, relieved at the muscle man's kindness.

"Hey get that damn alchemist!" A shout came a from behind Roy. Three angry cadets had just rounded the corner, "That fag is dead!"

"Shit," Roy swore under his breath, "Gotta go!"

As Roy took off running again, he caught a glimpse of a furious scowl that had come over the gentle giant's face while he stood in their path.

"You do not like alchemists? Why, that is greatly foolish of you since all is one and one is all. Understanding such a property gives us alchemists great strength," the giant threw off his shirt and flexed, "Come, you shall now bask in the glorious strength and beauty that has been past down in the Armstrong family for generations!"

In the far distance, getting quieter, Roy could hear several of Peter's goons attempt to take down the body-building cadet, Armstrong. By the sounds of it, they weren't doing all too well.

The streets grew quieter as Mustang finally reached the end of the marketplace. Overheard, thunder rumbled. With a crack of lightening, the threatening storm finally tore itself open. Just like that, anyone else left walking the streets quickly retreated inside. For Roy though, the rain didn't matter. He was almost to the dorm! He couldn't wait to tell Hughes all about this!

However, the smile on his face faded as soon as he rounded the corner and saw Peter standing out in the middle of the empty street, waiting for him. Peter's nose was deep, purple-red and swollen. As Mustang drew nearer to Peter, his eyes widened as he caught site of something reflective in the angel-haired boy's hand. The alchemist halted in his tracks, his chest heaving and his breath escaping him in gaseous puffs in the cool, night air. It was a knife. Peter had a knife.

The rain started to come down more heavily. Slowly, as Peter approached him, several of his gang had finally caught up and appeared behind Roy. Reaching into his bag, Roy unsheathed the small push dagger Maes had given to him some time ago. Holding it out with an unsteady aim and unsure as to who to point it at, Roy stepped back. His heart continued to race.

"S-stay away," Roy managed to stammer when his back met a brick wall.

"Why," Peter snickered, "so you can use those moves my brother taught you again to get away?" Viciously, he and several of his gang lunged at Roy, "the same moves that my brother taught me? That traitor!"

Even with the sound of the falling rain, the clatter of Maes' push dagger echoed throughout the small side street as they wrestled Roy to his knees. This noise was soon followed by a tumult of the young alchemist's shouts as the gang of cadets held him down and struck him on all sides.

Finally, after some time, they stopped at Peter's command. Mustang spat out a mouthful of blood.

Without further hesitation. Peter grabbed Roy by the throat. The alchemist's nostrils flared as Peter's fingers dug into his neck.

In the other hand, Peter turned his blade over and over. "You know, I recognize you now…those scars…" the angel-haired boy's cold fingers ran themselves up and down the smooth patches of skin on Roy's neck. Eventually they made their way down under his collar, "You're that boy from a long time ago…that burn freak they pulled out of that big house fire back home. To this day, they never found out how the fire started or who set it."

Peter gripped Roy's throat again. Mustang coughed. "But _I_know," Peter smiled wolfishly and leaned in close to Roy. Mustang could feel Peter's hot, sour breath hit the back of his throat. "Wouldn't you like to know who did it too?"

Mustang clenched his jaw as his struggles were met with resistance. Slowly Peter leaned in even closer until Roy could feel Peter's breath tickling his ear as he spoke.

Roy's eyes widened at what Peter whispered to him.

"You're lying," Roy said simply, his eyes welling up as Peter stepped back.

Peter only smirked. After a moment he raised the silver knife in his other hand, "Aw, don't be sad. We're going to give you new scars to cry about. The pain will make you forget, I promise."

Again, the alchemist's struggles and efforts to break free were futile. Peter only tightened his grip around Roy's throat. Mustang squeezed his eyes shut.

"Is that what you tell yourself, Peter?" Maes' voice carried down the street, "That pain and suffering of others will make you forget _ him?_"

"Oh my God it's him…" "It's Hughes..." The gang members murmured to each other as they lowered their heads and made way for one of their former leaders.

"…Hughes…" Roy looked up. Though his eyelids were already starting to swell, he could see that Maes was still in his Class A uniform..

"All of you go home now! Get out of here!" Maes shouted at the other cadets as he walked towards Peter and Roy, "This is over." Though some cadets left, others stood their ground.

"Why if it isn't the traitor," Peter straightened his posture and lowered the knife. He spoke still facing Roy, his eyes now glassy, a quiet rage building inside them, "I'll have let you know that their screams have yet to drown out his memory."

"You've got to stop this, Peter," Maes said when he was an arm's length away from his brother, "Stop this before you do something you can't take back."

The blonde snickered darkly, "But what if it's already too late for me?"

"Don't talk like that. It's not too late," Hughes said firmly, "But listen to me. You have to stop this before you…kill someone. You have to realize that none of these alchemists are _ him_."

"They don't have to be _HIM!_" Peter snapped as thunder clapped overhead. "I don't care if they aren't _him!_ They're all the same! They use people for…unspeakable things…their experiments…for their own gain! And they get away with it. They get applauded and promoted. They even receive awards for it! Just like _he_did. Don't you see, brother? This is justice. They've got to pay!"

"Peter, I understand. You're my brother. But Roy's done nothing here. Let him go. I know Dad wasn't a good father to either of us. But a small part of me thinks he cared for us and that everything he did was for—"

"No! You don't know that! You don't understand! How could you? You don't know...you don't know what he…what they made me do…"

"Peter," Maes furrowed his brow as his eyes searched his brother's back for answers, "what are you talking about?"

"You weren't there from the beginning…before Father brought me to you, I…they…" Peter trailed off as the rain dripped off the brim of his military cap and ran down his chin.

"Peter…" Maes reached out and touched his brother's shoulder.

As if the gesture snapped him out of a trance, Peter immediately flinched back and hit Hughes' hand away, "He always favored you! He only cared about you! Never once in my life has anyone cared about me who didn't want to USE me!" Peter brandished the knife again.

"Stop this, Peter!" With a flick of his wrist, Hughes unsheathed his own push dagger and stepped in between Peter and Roy.

"Or what? You'll cut me?" The wolfish grin returned to Peter's face, "And I thought maybe you were actually someone who genuinely cared for me."

Upon hearing this, Maes' eyes saddened. He glanced back at Roy for a second to confirm his well being.

"But you've made it clear who you really care about here," the blonde retorted.

Slowly, Hughes lowered his blade, "It's not like that, Peter. I'm here because I do care about you."

"Right…and you could say I'm doing this because _I care about you _, brother," Peter waved his hand, signaling the remaining portion of his gang.

With that, they descended upon Hughes and Mustang. A split second later, Roy heard the men holding him back shout as Hughes knocked them down. The next thing the young alchemist knew, he was on the ground with Maes on top of him, shielding him from the kicks and blows of the gang.

"Maes…"for some reason a sad smile crept across Roy's face at the sight of Hughes' shining, golden eyes staring back at him "Was this part of your plan, Maes?"

The golden eyed man smiled back in between blows, "Who said I had a plan?" He grit his teeth and flexed his muscles as best he could to protect them both from the gang's heels.

The rain seemed to grow heavier and harder with each hit Maes took for Roy. It streamed down the young alchemist's battered face as he watched his roommate take the beating. With each blow they landed on Hughes, Mustang felt as if they were twisting a knife in his chest.

_ Think! There must be something Roy could do to stop this. _

Suddenly, the young alchemist realized the area under his left palm was only slightly damp. The eaves of the building he had backed up against had kept puddles from forming there. Quickly, Roy's eyes scanned the air above the side street, taking note of the street lamps. With a very slight motion, the future flame alchemist produced a small piece of chalk from his pocket and began to draw a small circle.

"Maes, I've got an idea," Roy whispered softly into his roommate's ear, "Close your eyes."

Even though he drew it blind, Mustang had read the book Hughes had given enough to know the circle by heart. Closing his own eyes, Roy touched the edges of the alchemy circle under his hand and whispered a single word under his breath.

_KA-BOOM_There was a great flash as the ground shook around the two cadets. Roy could feel the cobble stone underneath them loosen and become uneven before settling.

"Ah!" There were several shouts as their attackers fell away.

When dust and silence finally settled across the street, Roy opened his eyes. Staring back at him was a pair of smiling, golden eyes. It had stopped raining and the sun, peeking out from behind the clouds gave them a warm glow.

"So that's who's name you whisper every time you alchemy. Your power word," Hughes grinned as he helped Mustang to his feet. Roy's cheeks grew hot.

"What did you do, Roy." Maes glanced around at the smoldering rubble and the large cracks in the cobblestone, "You nearly destroyed the entire street." Not too far off, several gang members could be seen groaning, coughing, and getting up off the ground as well.

"I transmutated and purified the copper in the electric wires around us and caused an overload in the electrical circuit feeding into this street. Since all the wire is connected, I only had to transmutate the small portion of wire in the ground under my hand to start a chain reaction. Though honestly," Roy dusted himself off, " the reaction was a lot bigger than I had imagined. The book you gave me made it sound as if it would be smaller."

"Heh. It's because you used that 'power word' of your's," Hughes chuckled.

Suddenly, Maes stopped laughing and froze. He had caught sight of something. After a second, he took off down the street.

"Hughes?" Roy's eyes grew wider and wider as he sprinted after Maes. The destruction was more severe than he initially gathered.

_ What have I done?_Already, the thought was running through Roy's mind.

When they had reached the end of the narrow street Mustang's jaw dropped. By the time they had got there Peter was already lying in a large, dark pool of blood.

"Peter!" Maes knelt to his side, frantically attempting to place pressure with his hands around the steel pipe that had impaled his brother abdomen. He must have fallen back on it after it came up through the ground.

"Stay with me, Peter!" Hughes shouted, "Somebody get some help!"

The angel-haired young man was breathing fast and shallowly, "Maes."

"Shh shh. Don't talk. I'm here. Stay with me now." Hughes gripped his brother's hand tightly.

"Brother…" Slowly, Peter's head fell back as his eyes shut, "I want to go home…" His voice was barely audible.

Roy lowered his own head, casting his gaze to the uneven pavement at his feet.

"Peter!" Maes screamed, "Peter!"

**Additional Notes:** This chapter is actually one that I've been wanting to write for a long time (especially the chase scene). Also, if you noticed, this is the chapter some things started to fall into place. You may remember the post office scene from the first chapter of the fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter despite the cruel chapter ending. Don't worry though, I'm on vacation now so the next chapter should hopefully be coming out soon. Still though, leave me a review and let me know what you think! I always like hearing from you guys. 3


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